Heaven with a Barbed Wire Fence
by Alex Foster
Summary: A trip home for the holidays turns into a race to protect a young special from The Church of the Nephilim. Claire/Gretchen/Elle triad relationship.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Heaven with a Barbed Wire Fence

Author: Alex Foster

Category: General

Word Count: 50,000+

Rating: PG-13

Summary: A trip home for the holidays turns into a race to protect a young special from The Church of the Nephilim. Claire/Gretchen/Elle triad relationship.

Contains: Polyamory, established relationships, original characters, cursing, misogynist language, threats of violence to a child, sexual situations, descriptions of violence.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by NBC. No money is being made and no infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: This is my Nanowrimo entry from this year. It is a sequel to Kindling St. Elmo's Fire but it is not necessary to have read that to follow this. I had a blast writing it and wholeheartedly recommend everyone try Nanowrimo at least once. Thank you very much for reading.

…

…

For the skeptic there remains only one consolation: if there should be such a thing as superhuman law, it is administered with subhuman efficiency.

Eric Ambler

…

…

**Chapter One**

"You see how simple it is, right? 'Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness.' How amazingly, purely, simple?" Light touched the woman's shoulders and she squirmed trying to get away. She had seen what his hands could do. The bindings were strong however and they only bit deeper into her wrists; blood dripped down the chair arms and pooled on the floor. No matter that—his partner would dry it up when he purified the scene.

"Now I don't expect to convert you," he continued as pleasantly as though they were having afternoon tea. "Lord knows that there is no shortage of religions out there looking for your time and money. I don't want a donation and I'll happily leave once you give me what I want."

Light dropped down to his haunches and squared his gaze directly at her. "Where is Stephen?"

She shook her head and bit into the gag stuffed in her mouth.

Light hung his head and sighed. She was just like the other one he questioned, her husband. "Why are you doing this?" he asked. "There is no Company any longer to protect. The secret is out. And I know you and your dearly departed husband fostered Stephen. Just tell me where he is."

She mumbled something.

"Now, now," he said, "if I take the gag out will you just scream again? Because my ears are still ringing and I don't think you want my friend over there to step in again."

Her eyes went wide and glanced at Salt standing calmly in the corner.

Light lowered the gag—Salt was quite good at what he did and normally the initial demonstration was all that was needed for their subjects to come to heel. "You were saying?"

"W-water please?"

"No. Stephen first."

She collapsed against her bounds. "I don't know any Stephen. We never fostered anyone. Please."

Light lunged forward and backhanded her across the face, hard enough to knock her chair over. He came to his full height as his ability jumped free and raked over her body. His control wasn't as good this time and she screamed in agony. Not bothering to retie the gag he increased the power until her limbs jerked against the bounds in an attempt to curl inward.

Long after she was dead her muscles continued to spasm. Light stood over her, breathing heavy. Normally he enjoyed his ability, the rush of it tingling over his skin, but even that couldn't help ease his frustration. "Did you believe her?"

Salt tipped his bald head, pale eyebrows quirked. "Obviously you did."

"And yet that isn't what I asked, is it?" Light wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and then smiled. "Ah, my friend, you do vex me so."

If Salt ever looked amused Light could never tell. "Luckily not as much as she did."

It was close enough to a joke that Light's smile transformed into a laugh. "Yes, well, it happens. Do your thing, would you?"

Light retreated to the kitchen to avoid Salt's ability. The taller man's control was good, amazingly so at times, but no sense in taking undue chances. Plus, he was peckish.

The house was a nice upper middle class post housing boom home. Not overly extravagant or unaffordable for the, now deceased, residents. The perfect cover he figured for two Company agents. Light opened the refrigerator and began poking about. Guess the old adage about buying green bananas was true. He sniffed the milk and then put the carton back.

Helping himself to a few slices of lunchmeat, he hummed a tune and glanced around the kitchen. Knickknacks aside, it was a nice cover. In another life Light might have wished for the same. But he had a new purpose now, one of a more divine origin. And if a few had to fall in pursuit of his order, well that was just part of the grand design.

Wandering around he discovered a small desk built into a nook, bills and a checkbook spread out over the top. Standing in the center was a little American Gothic figurine and in place of the pitchfork was a pen.

"Oh, now that is cute," he said. It was a shame he killed the couple before finding that—he could have asked where they bought it.

Reaching into his pocket, Light pulled out a list and unfolded it on the desktop. There were two dozen names written on the legal sized paper, several already crossed out. He traced each one and said a prayer for them.

Stopping at the names of the couple he just killed, Light took the pen from American Gothic and crossed them out as well. Sooner or later he would find out what he wanted to know. And his partners in the church would have Stephen.

Somewhere out there was a child of the Company and he had no clue how important he was. Not just to the church but to the entire world.

"For we are the salt and the light," Light repeated. "The meek are servants to us as the ox to the plow. And we shall tend our fields and cultivate our crop. For now and forever."

He peered into the main room and saw his partner finishing up with the bodies. Carefully he folded the list back up and put it and the pen back in his pocket.

"Glory to you Lord—"

...

...

"God." Gretchen Berg pressed her forehead to the bathroom tile and did her best to relax into the warm shower. She closed her eyes as water ran down her face. Two painful knots, one in her back and the other at the base of her skull slowly eased. Long brown hair followed the flow and formed a curtain around her face.

It was stress, no dread she corrected, that was taking its toll on her. Both body and mind. Finals and the build up to the holidays were nothing compared to what she was about to experience.

Returning home to her parents.

Or, more specifically, returning home to her very traditional family with two specials in tow. If not for Claire she would have been happy to just spend Hanukkah and Christmas with Mr. Bennet, like last year. But her girlfriend wanted the wonderful meet the parents adventure. And if not for Elle she would have thought up some reason to cancel and stay in Virginia, like the year before last.

She even found a book on Jewish tradition in Elle's room—subtitled 'how not to embarrass yourself'. Which was a sweet but unnecessary touch.

Gretchen sighed to the showerhead. She predicted an awkward first meeting, tense dinner, followed by a comment from her father about people with abilities that would lead to an argument. Either she, Claire, or Elle would storm out followed by a show of solidarity by the other two. And finally non kosher Chinese takeout at the hotel.

They would probably get to spend Christmas with Mr. Bennet after all if that happened early enough in the trip.

When there were again a thousand miles between them and her parents maybe the kinks in her back and headaches would go away. Really though she'd put up with the pain if the nightmares would stop. She hadn't had a good night's sleep since Thanksgiving.

A sharp ringing sliced through her reverie and tightened the knots right back up. On the third ring, she pushed away from the wall and leaned her head past the shower curtain. "Could someone get that please?"

Only a fourth ring answered so Gretchen stepped out and reached for a towel. Awkwardly wrapping it around herself she hurried from the bathroom to the master bedroom, leaving a wet trail behind her as she did so.

With one hand on the front of her towel, she grabbed the ringing phone from the charging pad on the nightstand. It was Claire's bedazzled phone but she answered it anyway. "Hello?"

There was a surprised pause at the other end and then, "Hello, Ms. Berg."

Micah Sanders, the technopath that helped Elle with her former Company abductee social work. Gretchen hadn't had much interaction with him, having met him in person only once after Elle saved them from a villain over a year ago.

Micah had let them stay at his New Jersey home—a place Elle described as a safehouse for specials everywhere—while they recovered from the ordeal. He seemed nice but she also knew he often involved Elle, and once Claire, in various clandestine operations to protect specials.

Gretchen glanced at Claire's phone and then to Elle's sitting on the charging pad. "Um, hello. Are you looking for Elle?"

"No, actually. I was hoping to speak with Claire. Is she home?"

"Yeah. Hold on." Gretchen hit the mute button and then looked down at herself. Covering herself the best she could, she walked from the calm and comfort of their bedroom to the hectic weekday morning in the Berg, Bennet, and Bishop household.

News played on the tv, turned loud enough for everyone in the apartment to hear it no matter which room they were in. The smell of breakfast and sounds of Claire moving around came from the kitchen. Gretchen started for her. Their apartment was small and off campus. The living room took up most of the space with the kitchen off to one side and the two bedrooms across from each other.

They shared a room most nights, but Gretchen had insisted Elle have a room to herself if she wanted it. She didn't know all the details of the years Elle spent growing up in the Company but figured she hadn't had much to call her own in that time.

In the year plus they'd been together Elle had stabilized quite a bit from when Gretchen first met her. She came and went on her missions to contact people the Company preformed tests on, and occasionally on trips for Micah, but she always had a home to return to.

She found Claire standing by the stove, flipping pancakes. Stepping into the kitchen in nothing but a small towel earned Gretchen a double take which she took a little bit of pride in. She held out the phone. "Micah for you."

"Me?" Claire set the flipper aside. "Not Elle?"

Gretchen shook her head.

"Okay, thanks." Claire took the phone and thumbed the talk button. "Hello?"

Shivering in the cool air of a drafty apartment in December, Gretchen turned and hurried back to her shower. Or at least she tried to. When Gretchen was halfway across the room, Elle stuck her head out from her bedroom. "Who was that?"

"Micah."

"He didn't say anything about that special I wanted him to contact, did he?" Elle started to follow her, craning her neck to glance where the towel dipped low in the back.

Taking pride in that too, Gretchen said, "He just asked for Claire. Sorry."

"Oh." Elle looked disappointed. "I guess it was a long shot."

The shower was still running, mocking her with how warm and relaxing it had been without her to enjoy it. Gretchen dropped the towel and rushed back in. Goaning when the water made contact with her tense back.

Elle was still standing in the doorway, watching.

"Or, more rationally, we could just cancel," Gretchen pointed out.

"There is nothing irrational about wanting to hire a teleporter to take me to Texas. It is statistically safer than flying or driving."

As long as you don't appear in a rock, Gretchen thought. Instead she said, "Is flying really that bad for you?"

"Nah," Elle said unconvincingly, like when she said it was okay to eat the last cheeseball during movie night. "Claire and drugs will keep me sane."

She meant it lighthearted, Gretchen knew, but there was truth in there too.

Gretchen pulled the curtain back a little and gestured. "You can come in if you'd like. Help me wash my back."

"I'd like to, Doe Eyes, but I'll have to take a rain check. Busy day."

"Okay." She gave her a little wave. "Shower check."

"See you at breakfast." Elle closed the door on her way out, trapping the steam inside the small bathroom.

Gretchen turned up her head and let the water run down her face. She gave up trying to relax and set about washing the sleep from her body. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, a little voice inside hoped. Maybe they would all have a nice holiday together as a family.

She'd settle for a decent night's sleep free from crazy dreams about two specials killing people. Not to mention the weird scripture one kept quoting about salt and light.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"Hello, Claire." Micah's voice was pleasant and so conversational it was as though he was calling to talk about the weather. Since he was the mastermind behind an underground network of specials, funded with money he stole from Pinehearst, Claire doubted this was about the chance of snowfall and flight delays.

"Micah." She could be pleasant too. "Something I can do for you?"

"Yes, actually. I know you are getting ready to leave for Texas, but I need to see you first. I've already booked a train ticket for you. And checked your date book to make sure it doesn't interfere with your schedule."

"Are you kidding me?" Claire grabbed the flipper and lifted a pancake out of the pan before it burned. "I can't just go to New Jersey. Not now."

"It won't take long. I'll have you on a flight tomorrow afternoon—next day at the latest."

"Micah, what is this about? Just tell me on the phone."

"I'd rather not discuss it here. I have our lines encrypted but it would be better to do it in person."

Claire turned the stove off. "What sort of mission are you trying to get me to sign up for?"

"Not a mission, nothing like that. I just need you to talk to some people for me. Nothing dangerous, I promise." He paused, as though calculating the best angle to get her to agree. "You know I'm just trying to help people like us and them. I wouldn't call unless I really needed your help.

"Plus, Molly would love to see you again."

Claire rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll come up but nothing more until you tell me what is going on. And I can't stay long—Gretchen needs me right now."

"I promise it will be fast. Thank you, Claire."

The line clicked dead and she tossed the phone on the counter.

"Mr. Wizard is trying to recruit you too, huh?" Elle leaned against the doorjamb. "He can kiss my ass if he thinks he is going to send you on his non-Company, Company assignments."

Claire transferred the rest of the cooked pancakes to a plate and set them on the center of their small dinning table. "It's nothing like that. At least I don't think it is." She placed several strips of bacon in the microwave and hit the power button. "He probably just wants me to talk to a young special or something."

"Yeah, well, you just got off the cover of Newsweek so let's try to keep you out of the spotlight for a little bit." Elle jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the tv. "The world ain't a nice place at the moment."

"I know. I'll be fine—it's Micah and Molly; not Belarus." Claire leaned in and gave her a quick kiss. "Grab the orange juice?"

"Sure. Just so he doesn't have someone pop you over to Belarus for a 'quick job'...Say, if that happens give the teleporter my number."

"Pretty sure that's not likely, but okay." The microwave dinged and Claire finished putting their breakfast together. Her gaze flicked to the other room and she decided to wait for Gretchen to finish dressing before eating.

Elle had no such desires. She plopped down at the table and began stacking pancakes on her plate. Bacon went on top of the pancakes and syrup, enough to flood the plate, covered everything. "What?" she asked, fork halfway to her mouth. "Were we waiting to say grace or something?"

Claire smiled and shook her head. She sat across from her and helped herself to a glass of orange juice. Coffee didn't keep her awake and she could never get it hot enough to be palatable so she mostly stuck with juice to start the day. "So what about you? What do you have planned for today?"

"Oh, you know, the usual holiday stuff. Buy eight little gifts, check in with one of my cases to make sure he won't burn DC down while we're gone, and then I have to mail a package.

"The usual."

...

...

"Pull over there." Light pointed to a petrol station.

"Why?" Salt glanced at the dashboard. "We have plenty of fuel and you urinated at the Cambell home."

"I'm hungry," Light said. "And we should really go back to a closed door policy."

"As you wish." The turn signal clicked loudly as Salt navigated their old sedan off the road and into the waystation. The lot was unpaved and a cloud of dust followed them in. They were far away from civilization, flat farmland as far as the eye could see in all directions.

Light popped the door and stepped out, taking a deep breath of crisp air. He looked around, enjoying the sunlight and blue sky. "A blessed day," he said and gave the roof a quick slap. "Want anything?"

"No." Salt shut the engine off and sat with his hands firmly on the steering wheel, ten and two like a good little boy.

"I'll get you a Chunky or something." Light put his hands in his pockets as he walked around to the front of the station. Someone had parked a pickup truck at an angle near the door. The petrol pumps didn't have a card reader and there was an old garage in the back with an honest to goodness tractor in a state of disrepair next to it. Light felt like he was in the middle of a postcard.

A bell dinged when he walked into the store. It was just as quaint as the outside—chipped linoleum floor, cigarette cage, and live bait available for purchase in a cooler next to the ice cream. Light caught the eye of the kid behind the counter, a teenager with a mop of hair and limbs just long enough to be awkward. It took him only a second of staring to see a similar souled individual.

Light nodded but didn't get any recognition in return—give the kid a few years and he'd be able to spot fellow specials too.

There were two other customers in the store, a boy and girl, teenagers as well but they were nons and Light didn't pay them any attention.

He walked to the snack aisle and began browsing. Americans were such wonderful creatures—even in the middle of nowhere he could buy food covered in cheese. He tucked two bags of crisps under one arm and started looking at the rows of candy. His salty friend would enjoy something sweet.

The two other people in the store passed him on their way to the front, one had a case of beer under an arm.

"No, Brick," the checkout kid said. "We've been over this. I'm not allowed to sell alcohol to you—you're underage."

"Come on." Brick set the case on the counter and leaned against it, a wide grin on his face. "What good is having a friend in the service industry if he can't hook me up?"

"We're not friends. You beat me up every day in grade school."

"Yeah, but I don't now." Brick shrugged. "Besides, why do you care? Can your kind even get drunk?"

Light glanced over at them.

"I-I don't know what you are talking about."

"Sure you do. Everyone knows it. You've been a freak since before the world got all freaky."

The kid shuffled back a step and Light shook his head at such a display of weakness. "Look, man—"

Brick hit the counter hard enough to knock a display of keychains over. "Just ring up the beer."

Before the young special had to decide, Light stepped in. "Yeah I think you should, mate." He walked up and dropped his snacks on the counter next to the case of beer.

"And what is it to you?"

"Nothing." Light leaned back against the counter and smiled. "I'm just someone old enough to buy alcohol whenever I want." He nodded to the special before turning back to Brick. "And I feel for you. Old enough to fight for your country but not to buy beer. Silly rules."

Brick looked confused but he nodded. "Yeah."

"And it's not like you haven't had it before." Light's gaze flicked over Brick's shoulder to the girl watching the exchange with a dull expression. "In fact, here."

Light reached back and drove his fingers through the top of the case and pulled out two cans. He handed one to Brick and popped the top on the other. "Cheers."

Brick half toasted, opened the can, and took a long draught.

Light didn't drink and kept his gaze on the non specials. "So this is what your lot does for fun around here?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Lovely country," Light said. "This is my first trip across America. Quite the dream you have here. Couple of drinks, truck, high school girlfriend in your lap."

"Yeah," Brick said again and tried to reach past him, "listen, ah, I—"

Light didn't move. "Drive around and then maybe find a special to have some fun with."

"I don't want any trouble," the kid behind the counter said.

"And yet it seems to want us," Light said. "Stupid little minded fools that don't know enough to respect their betters."

"Hey!" Brick took a step forward and moved to shove Light out of the way. A crack split the air and a blue-white flash knocked the non special back. "The hell?!"

Light gave a quick gesture with his thumb and first two fingers and a bolt of lightning jumped from him and hit the can in Brick's hand. It exploded sending beer and aluminum shrapnel flying.

"Jesus fuck!" Brick stumbled back with his bloody and burnt hand held to his chest. He tripped over his own feet and went down to the chipped linoleum.

The teenage girl didn't wait to see more. She jumped over Brick and ran for the door.

Light turned his hand and fired another bolt without aiming. It caught the girl in the calf and seized her leg in mid step. She fell and slid across the floor, falling just short of the door.

"I didn't say you could leave yet, love." Now Light did turn and let free a ball of electricity. It hit her shoulder hard enough to snap it down and break her clavicle against the floor. She howled in pain.

Brick recovered enough to climb halfway to his feet and charge Light. He had the build of an American football player, no doubt a runner or whatever they call the big dumb ones but Light had speed and God's own fury on his side.

Light twisted and let all his weight fall back on his left foot. His hand came up easily behind Brick's head and directed him with just enough added momentum into the hard countertop. A sickening crunch sounded and Brick's nose bent back at an unnatural angle.

Dazed Brick started to slide down to the floor, his hands groping through impulse candy displays.

Light gripped his throat and hauled him up and tossed him back. Brick landed as soundly as his namesake.

The kid behind the counter stared at him wide-eyed. With a shaking hand, he fumbled with the cash register and opened the drawer. "Please, sir. You can have whatever you want."

"Of course I can." He smiled reassuredly. "Fear not, dear child, and open yourself to God's wrath. For recompense is ours."

"W-what?"

"You are a boy of the American south." Light walked to the squirming girl on the ground and drove his foot into her injured shoulder. She screamed and her eyes rolled back into her head until only the whites remained. "Do you not know your bible?"

Brick mumbled something probably intended as 'crazy fuck' but with his busted nose came out closer to "Masy Uck".

Light grabbed the girl's hair and dragged her over to Brick. With the toe of his shoe he rolled her until she was on top of him. "Rejoice," he said. "You are a special and a gift to the world. And now you will bear witness to holy justice."

Light leaned down and sneered. "Your kind makes me sick. God gave man dominion over the beasts of the Earth and the likes of you are less than the animals that slither through the dirt." He up turned the can of beer and splashed it over them. It was, he reflected, a perverse baptism. Except their sins were unable to wash away.

He stood and looked at the special behind the counter. "Learn from their failings," he said. "See mankind for what it is in the deeds of those lesser than ourselves.

"'To me belongeth vengeance and recompense; their foot shall slide in due time: for the day of their calamity is at hand, and the things that shall come upon them make haste.'"

Light took a step back from them and extended his hands. Lightning sprang from his fingers, ten individual bolts of power that twisted together and raked over their bodies.

Both screamed and spasmed at the touch of his ability. Clothing blackened and fell away, skin split open and tissue charred. Smoke curled around them, from both the beer and cooked flesh. The smell was like incense around an altar.

Light stood over them long after they had stopped moving. The power crackled over his skin and filled his soul with joy. It took him back to when he was lost, aimless in a world that didn't want him, and then reminded him of the church he'd helped build.

His ability and purpose was truly the touch of God Himself.

Done, after the fires died away, Light took a deep breath and steadied himself. He found his snacks still sitting on the counter where he had left them next to the case of beer. The kid stood with his back pressed against the rear wall. His face was pale and it looked like only paralyzing fear was keeping him from emptying his stomach all over his classmates.

Nons and specials had to learn their fates eventually, Light knew. This was a day the kid would never forget. And when the reckoning came he would understand and be ready for it.

Light tossed money on the counter, enough to cover the beer too since he opened the case, and turned to leave after giving a small salute.

Outside felt shockingly cool after the stuffiness and heat inside the store. The truck was still parked crooked—Light figured no one would care now that the owner was dead. As he walked past, he held out his hand and let a trickle of power play over the truck. Paint withered and peeled back exposing the metal underneath as he did so.

Salt was still sitting in the same position he left him in. "That took a long time."

"It did," Light said flopping into the passenger seat. "I got to chatting with the locals. These really are nice people—salt of the earth, you might say."

Salt didn't smile at the joke but Light laughed and began opening the snacks he bought.

The engine turned over and Salt put the car in reverse. They backed the entire length of the parking lot and swung out into the street. Salt put the car in gear and they were again heading to the next name on the list.

They sat in silence for a moment, the only sounds coming from Light munching and the wind rushing by the car.

"Did you get me anything?"

Light smiled and reached into his pocket. "I couldn't find a Chunky so I bought a Snickers instead." He held out the candy bar.

Salt accepted the offered Snickers, pulled down the wrapper, and took a bite. "Thank you. I like peanuts."

"I know you do."

A state trooper car raced past them after they had been on the road for a few minutes. Light didn't bother looking back at it. A half an hour after that they passed a sign welcoming them to the great American state of Texas.

...

...

The post office worker was nice enough, for a postal worker in the middle of the Christmas season. She looked over her glasses at the package in Elle's hands, taking in the sight of tape wrapped in abundance around the box.

"Would you like to use one of our prepaid boxes?" she asked. "It might be cheaper."

"Nah. This is good." Elle placed the box on the scale. "Ring me up."

"Anything hazardous, flammable, or explosive inside?"

"It's just cookies for grandmama."

The worker looked at the digital readout and raised her eyebrows.

Elle cleared her throat. "Grandmama likes her sugar."

"Would you like our guaranteed next day service?"

"Two day is good. If all goes well grandmama will be so full of holiday cheer that she won't even need these cookies."

The worker smiled and stamped the box.

Elle swiped her card and waited for her receipt. Humming along to the canned music playing in the background.

"Here you are, dear, and have a happy holiday."

"Thank you. Merry Hanukkah to you as well."

Elle waited until she was clear of the line and out the door before letting her season greeting card face fall. At least she'd taken care of that. Stupid airports with their stupid rules. Not needing the package was probably true, but she'd be damned if she'd make a trip without some cookies in her back pocket. She had yet to have a good trip to Texas and having cookies with always made her feel better.

Zipping up her coat against the icy Virginia wind, Elle realized that analogy actually worked quite well.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Micah was waiting for Claire at the New Jersey terminal.

Shouldering her small travel bag, Claire moved across the platform to him. His hair was longer since she last saw him, and there was unmistakable tightness around his eyes from stress, but he was still the same geeky kid from years ago when he recruited her in his underground special railroad. He was Rebel back then and it was the network he built that he was still using to help their kind.

While Claire served as the public face of specials worldwide, or at least she had immediately after coming out of the closet, Micah had always preferred to work unseen from the other end of a computer or cell phone.

He greeted her warmly and gestured to her bag. "May I?"

"I'm okay, thanks." Together they began walking across the station. "I half expected Molly to meet me."

"She wanted to, but had an errand to run in the city. Good trip up?

"It was fine."

"And Gretchen and Agent Bishop? Are they doing okay?

Claire smiled. "Yes, but did you really bring me two hundred miles just to make small talk?"

Micah shrugged and then pointed to a small coffee shop. "We can discuss my proposal there."

A scattering of travelers sat inside but no one seemed to give them a second glance. Claire inwardly sighed at that—less than five minutes with Micah and she was already back to Company level paranoia. Generic Christmas music played from a boombox in the corner and the cash register had blinking red and green lights around it. Micah ordered two cups of hot tea and they took them to a booth in the back far away from the other customers.

There was no need to stay within sight of the exits. The technopath probably had all the security cameras in the station working for him. When it came to people with Micah's ability, Claire had learned, there wasn't much they couldn't put to work for them if they really wanted to.

Micah unbuttoned his coat and sat across from her. "I need you to talk to someone for me," he said.

"Who?"

He reached into a coat pocket, pulled out a pamphlet, and slid it across the table toward her.

"The Church of the Nephilim?" She gave him an unsure glance.

"How much do you know about them?"

"I don't know." Claire shrugged. "Just what I hear on tv—the news and late night infomercials. It's a special friendly non profit, I guess."

"It could be that, yes," Micah said, "or it could be a front for something…worrisome."

Claire flipped open the glossy pamphlet and looked at pictures of caring people smiling and welcoming wayward specials. "How worrisome?"

"Not sure yet. At first they were just involved in some protests over treatment of specials, that is what put them on my radar, but lately I've found connections between some of their deacons to acts of violence against nons. And recently I learned the church has been using dummy corporations to buy up properties formerly owned by the Company and a few of its founders."

"That might not mean anything. Hate crimes on both sides have been on the rise lately. And after the Company a lot of its agents didn't have anywhere to go—it's possible many ended up with the church and are just buying properties to use they are familiar with."

Micah nodded an affirmative. "That is what I want to find out from their computer system."

"How do I fit in? You can hack government websites in your sleep."

"The Church of the Nephilim has proven…resistant."

Claire blinked in surprise. "You can't get in?" She fought back a laugh at that.

"I can get in." Micah sounded annoyed at the very idea. "But it will take time and I'd rather not wait."

"And you need me to talk to someone about this?"

Micah shook his head. "The church holds what they call reception interviews with prospective members. I'd like you to go into their New York office and express an interest in the church. A representative will conduct a tier one interview, which is just a lot of talk about all the good they do for the community—nothing more has to come from it."

"And…?" Claire prompted.

"That's it. Just get your phone close enough to one of their phones or computers. I'll do the rest."

"Why do you need me? Why not just go in yourself?"

Micah paused at that and seemed to pick his words carefully. "I need someone older than I look and I think they might be expecting a technopath. Their security is abnormally tight. Internal darknets setup through monitored ports. I've tried several attacks and they were ready for me each time."

"You think they have a technopath of their own?"

"I doubt it. The networks didn't feel like they would if they were in contact with one. Probably just overly prepared former Company agents on the look out for me."

Claire sipped her tea and thought. "What makes you think they won't be ready for me too?"

"Because you are the most widely known special in the world." Micah grinned. "No matter what the church might be up to, they wouldn't pass up a chance to get the face of the special community itself in their roster."

"I haven't been that person in a while now."

Micah rolled his eyes and for a moment looked his age. "I work with frightened specials every day that are looking for something or someone to believe in—something to make them not feel alone in the world—and trust me when I say they know who you are.

"Agent Bishop sees the same thing; just ask her."

"I think Agent Bishop prefers me as a normal college student who still fits into her highschool cheerleader uniform," Claire said wryly. "When do you need me to do this?"

"You can go in tomorrow if you'd like."

She sighed. People with his ability could indeed make anything they wished into a tool. "I'll do it."

...

...

The shades were drawn and the apartment dark save for blinking lights on their tree when Elle returned home. She shed her coat, tossed her keys in the community bowl, and peered in the master bedroom. Gretchen was in there, curled on her side, and sound asleep.

Elle glanced at the clock and figured Gretchen must have had another headache and gone to bed early. Since they started talking about this trip, since she and Claire started anyway, Gretchen had been stressing herself over it. Why Elle didn't know. As far as screwed up families went, Gretchen might as well be Beaver Cleaver next to her and Claire.

So what if her parents didn't like specials. Noah didn't like them either at first and he got over it.

Elle kicked off her shoes and started across the living room. Her phone buzzed in her pocket before she made it three steps however.

Glancing at the caller id, she accepted the call and opened video chat. "Hey, Cheerleader." She kept her voice low.

Claire appeared on the screen. "I'm staying at the townhouse for the night," she said without preamble.

"I knew it! What does he have you doing?"

"Just talking to one of the recruiters for the Church of the Nephilim. Nothing dangerous."

Elle frowned as she carried the phone into her room. "That place with the commercials were people are wearing white and walking on the beach like they are selling tampons?"

"That's the one." Claire gave her an overview of the job, no doubt leaving out things that Elle wouldn't like or would worry about. "I'll be on a plane tomorrow afternoon and get in just a few hours behind you guys."

Elle shook her head and sat on the edge of her bed. "Mr. Wizard had better not have anything else up his sleeve. Unlike him some of us actually are looking forward to having a merry Hanukkah."

Claire smiled. "Will you be okay on the plane?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

Claire gave her a look.

"Yes, I will be fine," Elle said. "I plan on taking so many magic pills that a gremlin could chew off the wing and I wouldn't care. I will miss sneaking off to the bathroom for a repeat, albeit less crashy, of our last flight together."

"Sorry."

"Eh." Elle studied the living room beyond her door for a long moment while she thought. "Doe Eyes could probably use some of the drugs, too."

"I'm worried about her," Claire's tiny voice said from the phone.

"You and me both, Pom Pom." Elle noticed Claire was reclining back in a large overstuffed chair. She recognized it from one of the guestrooms in Micah's house of wayward specials. "I'll look after her though."

"I don't think her parents are going to be that bad. Her brother seems nice and I talked to her dad once."

"How did that go?"

Claire shrugged and took a long time answering. "It wasn't long after the carnival so he wasn't thrilled to meet me, but we were civil."

Elle settled herself back in bed and propped the phone up next to her on the nightstand. "Well, from what I understand it wouldn't be the holidays without tension and recrimination. Then in the end you eat a bird and get gifts."

Claire smiled again and rested her head on her arm thrown back over the chair. The two specials stared at each other for a long moment.

"Want to have video chat sex?" Elle asked.

"Okay."

...

...

Later, after Claire had said goodnight and signed off, Elle cleaned herself up and padded back into the main room. She double checked the locks on the windows and door, a carryover from her years as an agent, turned off the tree lights, and walked into the master bedroom.

She slipped underneath the covers of their large bed, more than enough space for all of them, and curled against Gretchen. One arm wrapped protectively around her waist. The younger woman relaxed against her and sighed with relief.

Within minutes Elle was asleep as well.

...

...

She knew her partner had parked the car around the side of the victim's house, away from prying eyes of the neighbors.

It wasn't necessary to break in—a simple deception would have worked to get him to open the door. But she enjoyed the look on the victim's face when he noticed her casually walking about his house.

He tried to yell for help—they all did—but Salt's ability put a stop to that. It tore through Robert White, the next name on the list, leaving just enough of a panting husk to answer a question.

"Where's Stephen?"

This one lasted hours, resistance worthy of a true Company agent, but Robert didn't give the correct answer. In the end, when staring God in the eye, everyone broke. She believed him when he said wasn't a Company instrument.

She killed him. Just enough of a charge through one ear to overload the brain and cook him alive in seconds. Clean compared to their others. The interrogation wasn't though so she left Salt to eliminate the mess while she wandered the house.

That was her favorite part, even over the tickle of her ability taking lives. The things one could learn from snooping around a home. She still had that pen from the last house in her pocket.

In the bedroom she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. "Glory amen."

...

...

Gretchen gasped and opened her eyes. The room was dark and for a second she thought it was the strange bedroom from her dream. Slowly the details of that faded and reality came back. She was in her own bed with Elle asleep behind her. Claire was in New Jersey, she remembered.

It was early when she had just closed her eyes for a moment, trying to shake off a headache. She must have fallen asleep and missed most of the evening. Easing away from Elle's protective arm, she glanced at the clock. Four thirty am.

She wiped sweat from her brow and carefully extracted herself from twisted blankets and padded across the cool floor. The glow of the moon and streetlamps lit the apartment through frosted over windows. Gretchen walked to the kitchen and filled a glass with water from the tap. Her hand was shaking when she brought it to her mouth.

The dream teased the edge of her consciousness and made her feel off. Like she wasn't quite present.

"Another nightmare?" Elle stood in the doorway, dark rings of sleep under her eyes.

"Just thirsty."

Elle scoffed. "Please. I have had enough of my own and been the cause of even more to recognize the signs. This is night what? Four?"

"Five." Gretchen sat at the table and rubbed her bare arms. It wasn't even that cold in the place. "I swear they are getting worse."

"Care to share? Never been my philosophy but they say talking makes it better."

Gretchen shook her head. "Just bad images of people dying. Mostly I hate how it makes me feel...like I'm out of myself and each time it is harder to get back in." She left out that often the strangers in her dreams died at the business end of Elle's ability. The special struggled enough with her villainous history and she didn't need the thought that Gretchen's unconscious judged her too.

Elle sat across from her and nodded toward the water glass. "Want something stronger than that? It might help."

"If we were closer to sun down instead of sun up I'd take you up on that. Besides, I want to be in full control for the flight today. Last thing I need is to end up on A&E and for my parents to put me in rehab on top of everything else."

"Suit yourself." Elle thought for a moment and then sighed. "Listen, I know we were going to present a united front and all that with your parents and now you're stuck with just me until Claire gets back from geek squad HQ but it is going to be okay.

"I'm not just saying that because I know how sucky it is when people break that out hoping to convince themselves too. If you're parents don't like that Claire and I are specials then screw them up their asses. It is their loss because I left the tags on their Hanukkah gifts."

Gretchen chuckled. "That would be a much more rousing speech if you weren't talking about my mom and dad, but thank you I know what you mean. And I'm not 'stuck with you'."

Elle leaned back, obviously pleased with herself. "My motivational speeches have gotten better since I started this whole social worker thing. You're my first non special though—in more ways than one."

"That's me." Gretchen weakly gestured to the other room. "You should try and get some sleep. We don't have to be at the airport for another six hours."

"Nah, I'll be in a nice restful drug coma on the plane. I'll stay up with you."

Together they watched the sun rise, enjoying the last morning in their apartment until after the holiday break. Later Gretchen finished packing while Elle watched the early news broadcast. Gretchen wasn't really paying attention or she would have heard about a series of connected crimes across the southwest that matched her nightmares.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Claire decided she didn't want to know why Micah kept clothes in her size at the New Jersey townhouse. Feeling like he had put more thought into this mission than he let on, she dressed in a modest skirt, blouse, and heavy peacoat to keep out the cold.

While he drove her into the city, she reflected that she looked less like a college student and more like the daughter of a senator. Which was the idea. She was back to acting as the unofficial ambassador to special kind.

The Church of the Nephilim maintained a welcoming center not far from the park. It was a small and unassuming building, undistinguishable save for a sign in the front window of a bright sun shining over an upturned palm.

Micah parked far enough away from the front to avoid peering gazes and any hidden security cameras they might have turned toward their direction. He handed her phone back. "Clear on what you have to do?"

Claire nodded. "Go in and talk."

"That's right. Just get your phone close to one of their computers and I'll do the rest." He reached between the seats and pulled out a tablet computer. It came on with a chime and Claire saw a helix symbol on its wallpaper that was disturbingly similar to something Pinehearst or the Company would have preferred.

She wondered deep in her mind if Elle was right to want to keep a close eye on Micah. He was always benevolent but in the last few years he seemed…better organized.

"Remember," he said, "you just want to talk to them about the church and the things they do for specials. If they want to do a tier two interview, get out of there."

Claire touched the sleep button on her phone and dropped it in her coat pocket. "Why? What is a tier two?"

"A very mild telepathic scan."

"What?"

He shook his head. "It's nothing to worry about—those normally have to be scheduled or a telepath has to be brought in while you wait. And I'm sure agents Bennet and Bishop have taught you basic mental defense to keep them from reading you without your consent."

Claire stared at him. "This information might have been good to know before."

"Trust me, they won't do that. From their perspective you aren't an enemy—quite the opposite in fact." Micah reached into the cup holder and pulled out a small earwig. "Plus I'll be with you the whole time."

Claire took it from him and opened the door. "Let's get this over with."

"Good luck!"

She slammed the door and didn't look back when she crossed the street. The earwig made a crackling hiss when she fitted it and then remained quiet. It wasn't obtrusive and her hair covered it completely. Traffic was light and she made it across and turned toward the welcome center.

She pulled the glass door open and stepped inside the building. It was office space, narrow but long, with a tall front desk immediately to her right and a line of folded chairs to her left. A larger version of their logo from the window hung framed behind the receptionist.

It was hot inside, almost uncomfortably so, and smelled like new carpet.

"Hello, and welcome to—" The woman at the desk looked up and stopped abruptly. Her wide gaze went from Claire to one of the posters on the wall behind the chairs.

Claire glanced over and saw a picture of herself. It was a still from the newscast where she revealed her ability to the world. Underneath was a caption: 'Here'. Followed by: 'Be Not Afraid'.

"You're Claire Bennet," the receptionist said, standing. "Oh my God! I'm Suzie—Susan—Fairmott. You inspired me to tell my family that I was special."

Claire smiled and nodded. "It's nice to meet you, Suzie. I hope it went well with them."

"It did! They said it didn't matter to them how I was."

"That's good." Claire unbuttoned her coat and finished looking around. "I was wondering if I could talk to someone about the church?"

"Of course. Of course." Suzie jumped as though she just remembered her job. "I'll get the deacon." She hurried to the back room.

Claire scratched behind her ear. "Please tell me you are in," she muttered.

"Not yet," Micah's voice was surprisingly loud, like an iPod turned up too high. "Your phone sees the network but it is in-house only. So far nothing links back to a central node."

"You said this would work," she said through clenched teeth.

"It will. Give me a sec."

"Miss Bennet." A young man in a buttoned down white shirt, sleeves rolled up like a campaigning politician, followed Suzie out from the back of the building. "It is wonderful to meet you. I'm Patrick, one of the local deacons around here."

Claire shook his hand. "I've been meaning to stop in for a while now."

"Ask to go to his office."

"Would you mind talking about the organization for a few moments? I'd make an appointment but I'm only in town for the day."

Patrick shook his head. "Not at all. Please follow me. The elders have actually tried to contact you in the past but never heard back."

Claire wondered which Company agent in her life intercepted the requests—her father, probably. In this case, she found she didn't mind very much. "Sorry about that. I'm not really the same person on that poster out there. I'm aiming for more of a typical life these days."

With your live in triad lesbian relationship a voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Elle quipped.

"Don't make them thing you aren't with their side," Micah warned. "It might not seem like it, but they aren't as tolerant as they say."

Patrick led her down a hallway to a bright office with two overstuffed chairs and a desk. Her gaze fell on his open laptop there.

She sat in one of the chairs and he seated himself behind the desk. The office was neat and professional—racks of self-improvement pamphlets sat to one side and a squat bookcase with biblical and legal books to the other.

"So what can I do for you today? If you'd like to join, I could—"

"Actually I was just hoping to hear more about the church," Claire said. "Lately I've had several people…close to me express interest in joining and wanted to check it out for them."

Patrick nodded. "I completely understand. These friends are specials I assume and you want to make sure we aren't like some of the other groups out there preying on our kind."

"Well—"

"It is dangerous for us. There are people that would see us lynched."

"Don't disagree," Micah said, sounding distracted. "Just let him go."

"You see that is the beauty of what we do," Patrick continued. "We are open to both specials and nons. All we ask of people is that they believe in a higher power than themselves and in a sense of duty to make the world a better place."

Claire thought of all the people she had known that had that idea and used it to try and twist the world in to a decidedly worse place. "That sounds like a noble goal. What sort of things are you involved in?"

"Our elders believe in tackling not just the big issues—the Human Protection Act that almost passed a couple of years ago for example—but also the smaller, personal, issues. That is why we believe in helping people with their spiritual needs.

"Once a person has been fully welcomed into the church they receive the support of everyone, no matter what they might need. We are a family. That is one of the cornerstones of our belief."

"Sounds wonderful." Claire gave a smile she hoped was sincere looking. "How does one become a full member?"

"A series of meetings—it is more for the potential member so they feel comfortable with us. The first is a sit down talk like this. If they want to continue we do a deeper session that helps them figure out what is missing in their life and how we can help."

"With a telepath?" Claire said.

Patrick blinked in surprise and then continued just as enthusiastically as before. "Yes, of course. I'm glad you've done your research. Specials, especially telepaths in this case, have a duty to help the new members of our flock. I'm sure you can understand that—you've done quite a bit to help our kind and theirs."

"Exactly what is done with the information you collect from them?"

"Nothing confidential ever leaves the church," Patrick said. "We keep the secrets of our potentials because gossip isn't what we are after. In fact we aren't 'after' anything. The scan is solely to help potentials learn which areas of themselves they need to improve upon."

While giving plenty of blackmail information to use against them, Claire thought.

"This is important for our non special members," he said, "because many of them have a connection to our world through a relative or spouse. How else will we eliminate prejudice unless we help people face it head on?"

"Well—"

"You must feel the same way. I understand your partner is a non."

Claire narrowed her eyes. "Excuse me?"

"I've done my research too, Miss Bennet. You did a good job keeping her away from the press but some of them are rather dogged. She sat behind you when you testified in front of Congress, correct?"

"Claire," Micah warned, "I have what I need. Just get out."

"I'm sorry, but I don't think my personal life has anything to do with this."

Patrick shrugged. "Injustice isn't just about us. Everyone we care about is affected."

Claire felt a small pressure behind her eyes, building slowly. An image of Elle's face popped in her head before she realized what was happening and could raise mental barriers.

Patrick looked puzzled for a moment. "There are specials you care about too," he said. "I can tell. And I know you would like them to live in a world that appreciates their considerable talents."

The pressure increased to a buzzing and a twisting sensation going down her neck. Claire recalled all the lessons her father and Elle gave her about resisting a telepath. A normal person could only hold out for so long, depending on the strength and dedication of the telepath.

Mental pain was not something Claire had to worry about. Keeping her breathing even she imagined a solid wall around the center of her mind. Patrick was a barking dog on the other side, pestering but unable to get inside. Instead of thinking about anyone close to her, she filled her thoughts with random bits of popular songs.

Earworms were great for throwing a telepath off the trail, Elle had taught her.

"Claire, you have to get out right now," Micah said.

Claire stood. "I'm sorry but I really must be going. Thank you very much for seeing me. I learned a great deal."

Some of Patrick's focus wavered when she stood and he scrambled to follow her. "There is so much more I'd like to show you. Perhaps you could come back and attend one of our services?"

"Maybe. Like I said, I'm not in town for long."

"We have branches all over the country," he said. "I could have a representative come to your home."

Claire grabbed a handful of brochures on the way out of his office. "Thank you for these. I'll read them in the cab."

Susie was waiting just beyond the hall. There were several other people in the sitting area too. Claire didn't stop to find out if they were potentials or members; she didn't slow until she was outside.

The cold air was a slap in the face after the stuffy church office. Claire took a deep breath and savored it filling her lungs.

"Turn left, don't stop," Micah said.

Claire did as he instructed, doing her best to appear unhurried. In truth that unnerved her more than a little and she wanted to put as much distance between herself and them as she could. She didn't like the idea they had information on her and Gretchen so readily available. Or that thanks to the unexpected mental scan they nearly had a folder on Elle too.

Micah picked her up almost a block away from the church. He barely waited for her to close the door before pulling back out into traffic.

Claire leaned back in the seat and took several cleansing breaths.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. In hindsight I think the likelihood of a tier two scan is pretty good."

"Did they get anything?"

Claire removed the earwig and dropped it in the center console. "No. Just their suspicions raised—and mine. Were you able to get in?"

"Not their internal server but in place of that I hacked his phone and laptop. I should be able to pull something useful. Thank you for your help, Claire. I mean it."

She nodded and glanced in the side mirror, half expecting to see a car following them. "Who were those people I passed on the way out?"

"Two more of the New York deacons and the lawyer they've had buying up land in their dummy corporation's name."

"Shady lawyers," she said. "Perfect."

...

...

There was a sign above airport security that said: 'Think of your fellow passenger. If you are a special capable of mass harm please inform the TSA'.

Gretchen stared at that for a moment while waiting to pick up her shoes from the bomb scanner. Unbelievable, she thought. Legally, they couldn't ask a person if he or she was special so they used guilt and fear to get them to tell.

"Yeah," Elle said behind her, "that isn't going to happen."

Gretchen slipped her shoes back on. "You okay, so far?"

Elle nodded. "Airports I'm cool with; it is the flying in near Earth orbit I rebel against."

"It isn't really that high."

"Well it is high enough to not make a different if you fall from it." Elle shouldered her carry on and started for the gate. "Any word from Claire?"

"No, not yet." Gretchen felt for her phone and doubled checked that it was on. "Do you think something could have gone wrong?"

They fell in line with the crowd moving toward the plane. Around them the airport was bustling with early holiday traffic. No one paid attention to them as they talked.

"If The Pinball Wizard knows what is good for him he didn't send her on anything too dangerous. Micah could only hope Noah gets to him before I do."

Gretchen handed the attendant her ticket. "I'll text her before we take off. Hopefully she'll be able to leave today yet."

Elle followed her into the boarding tunnel. "Text your brother too," she said. "I'd rather not have to rent a car while loopy. I had a bad experience with a car rental guy once and don't trust the lot of them."

"I will. Martin's dependable though." Elle took her hand when they stepped into the plane. That caught Gretchen by surprise—Elle wasn't the most PDA person in the world. Her grip was tight and sweaty.

Gretchen squeezed back and tried to transfer some reassurance through her fingers. "We're up here."

Their seats were half way up the section, across from an emergency exit. Gretchen stored her carry on and took the window seat and left Elle on the aisle so she wouldn't feel boxed in.

Elle took several audible breaths. "Well this is going to be fun."

"It is only a three hour flight. We'll be there before you know it."

"That is the idea." She snapped her fingers to get the attention of a flight attendant helping an elderly man to his seat. "Hey, could I get a drink of water over here?"

"I'm sorry but we can't bring the beverage cart out while we're on the ground. Airline policy."

"What the hell sort of bullshit rule is that?"

Gretchen held up her hand and smiled apologetically. "That will be fine. Sorry and thank you." Quietly to Elle she said, "Let's try not to make enemies literally out of the gate."

Elle settled back in her seat with an annoyed huff.

"How did you fly when you were with the Company? I know they sent you around the world."

"We had a nice teleporter on staff. His name was Larry and I used to bring him doughnuts." From her tone, Gretchen couldn't tell if she was joking or not. Probably, she thought…Maybe.

Before shutting her phone off, Gretchen sent a text to Claire and another to Martin. She ran down a mental checklist to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything.

Elle glanced down the aisle for the attendant and then pulled a small pill box out of her pocket. She swallowed two dry.

"Will that help?"

"It will put me to sleep and supposedly give me a sunny attitude in the morning. At least we don't have to worry about—"she wiggled her fingers in the air—"zap zap this time. Got that under control."

"I don't think I would do as good of a job with that as Claire," Gretchen said wryly.

"Let's hope we never have to test that out, Doe Eyes."

In spite of the headache she hadn't been able to shake and holiday stress, Gretchen smiled at the nickname. She knew they were more than an extension of how Elle viewed a person. Just because they seemed flippant didn't mean she didn't care.

Gretchen turned the dark phone over in her hands. Her thoughts drifted to the months after Claire's announcement on live tv. And the disapproval Gretchen heard from her parents. She spared a sidelong glance at Elle as she rested her head back with her eyes closed. She didn't know all the details of many of Elle's cases, but knew she struggled with seeing specials that had trouble integrating in the world. Especially when the Company and by extension Elle was responsible for some of their troubles.

She wanted a simple holiday for her and Claire. In the back of her mind she was holding on to an exit strategy. If her parents didn't want a special at their table Christmas takeout in Arlington sounded good to her.

The plane began filling up around them. Aside from a soft remark about how the guy sitting across from her didn't look strong enough to open the emergency door Elle was quiet. About half an hour after they closed the door the seat belt sign came on and they started taxiing down the runaway.

Elle's fingernails bit into Gretchen's hand and left little half-moon shaped impressions. Gretchen stoically endured it and said, "You know what just popped into my head? The day we met. You and me off on an adventure together."

"Really? That's the soothing analogy you decided to go with to get my mind off this? The day we drove off a pier and nearly drowned in your cubey car?"

Gretchen shrugged. "It wasn't all bad. You did save my life so it was an okay day."

The pressure of take off didn't feel great on her on her inner ear but Gretchen copied Elle's pose and within minutes they were cruising. For better or worse they were racing toward Texas.

Elle's magic pills kicked in before the service cart started making the rounds and she drifted off to sleep. Gretchen paid the extra for a blanket and pillow for her and then bought two bottles of water. She didn't waste any time twisting the cap off and taking a long drink.

Gretchen pressed the cool bottle to her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut. It wasn't just the elevator like feel of take off—something didn't feel quite right. She unbuckled her seatbelt and sat forward as much as she could.

Her heart was racing.

Gretchen glanced over at Elle's shirt pocket and wondered if her girlfriend brought enough pills to share. Probably brought enough to rufie the entire plane. She decided against it though. Cold medicine didn't even agree with her and the last thing she needed was something making her feel worse.

It wasn't airsickness. She felt like she did after one of those serial killer nightmares—disconnected and off. Only this time there hadn't been any dreams before hand,

She blinked away spots and pushed to her feet. Using the back of the seat in front of her for support, she slid past Elle and began walking toward the lavatory. Her sense of depth kept playing tricks and made her feel like she was about to fall face forward when she was merely taking a step.

It felt like everyone was staring at her even though no one really seemed to pay her any mind.

Thankfully the lavatory was unoccupied when she reached the rear of the plane. Walking inside and bolting the door behind her, Gretchen leaned against the small sink. She turned the cold water on and splashed some on her face.

The runoff circling the drain was pink.

Gretchen looked up and saw blood coming from her nose. Using a handful of paper towels, she dried her face and pinched her nose to stop the bleeding. What the heck was happening to her?

"My name is Stephen. They are coming. Your friends must get to me first."

Three years of living with specials kept Gretchen from jumping in fright. She'd seen people turn into stone in front of her eyes—strange disembodied voices was pretty far down on the weird scale compared to that. "Hello?" she asked quietly. No point in making the other passengers think she was talking to herself.

Only the faint rumble of the plane's engines answered her.

Gretchen tried again. "Hello? Stephen?"

Nothing. She was beginning to think she had imagined it. Which was somehow less disturbing than if an invisible little boy had followed her into the bathroom. My life really has changed, she thought.

Gretchen waved her hands through the air a few times, looking for the owner of the voice. Deciding it must have been in her head, she stuffed her nose with bits of paper towel to catch any other bleeds and headed back to her seat.

The return trip was easier, less of a heady journey, and she felt better with every step. Elle was still sound asleep and Gretchen settled in next to her. There wasn't much of a chance she'd rest after that. She debated whether to tell Elle or Claire when they landed—it was probably just stress and nerves, there hadn't really been anyone in there with her. Telling them would just make them worry and the circle of concern would continue.

And what would she really tell them? That she heard a voice once? They couldn't do anything about it. She didn't even know anyone named Stephen.

...

...

"I know you think I'm a villain," Light said. He once again stood over a name on the list. The man, Bradley Selzar, had withstood the questioning better than any other person Light had encountered. Even Salt's touch hadn't killed him outright.

Light admired that, he really did, and said so. Salt had no comment.

"I've killed a lot of people to get to you," he told Bradley. "And if you are who I think you are then you have too. No one rises in the Company without spilling blood."

Bradley's wife on the other hand hadn't faired so well against Salt; she covered the floor in several piles. If she was an agent in an earlier life, she had forgotten most of her training when they came knocking.

Salt's ability had caused Bradley's eyes to shrink in his skull and his normally dark skin to pale considerably. Light saw the irises turn to look at him.

"Good. You understand me. I'm not the evil one and I think you know that. The Company is gone and you owe them no allegiance—certainly not to endure this. Why do you still protect him? Surely you know what he can do.

"If you think I'm bad, Stephen is far worse. At his command the rivers and springs of the Earth could run red with blood and rise to my bridle." Light tipped his head. "Is this someone you truly wish to defend?"

Bradley gave several quick breaths, hitching when he tried to fill his damaged ribcage. Blood speckled his chapped lips.

"I will pray with you," Light said soothingly and placed a hand on Bradley's head. The non special had seen up close what Light's hands could do and yet he did not flinch from the touch. "I will grant you everlasting life with your wife. Just tell me where you hid him and this will end."

Another struggled breath. And then Bradley started dry sobbing.

"No." Light leaned down until he was almost pressed against Bradley. "No, this is not a weakness. This is a gift you have been given. There is no shame in bowing to your better. You have done your duty but the country you served is gone

"Confess and be unburdened."

"I-I." Bradley's voice was barely above a whisper; he hadn't spoken a word in hours of torture. "I will tell you what you want to know. I'll help you find Stephen."

Light watched the Company sleeper agent crumble and begin to confess. Glory amen.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"'AAT Data Storage and Security,'" Micah read from his tablet. "All high ranking deacons were ordered to provide them with elder sensitive documents. I think they expunged old records from branch offices and transferred most of the church's backlog to the main office."

"Can you see what they are using it for?" Claire asked.

"No. AAT offers a rather specialized service. They don't use cloud drives and keep mostly hard copies for clients."

"That doesn't seem very efficient."

"Maybe not but it is a good deterrent against people like me. Very useful if you want to erase a digital footprint and lead your paper trail to a dead end. It is like off shore tax evasion but instead of hiding money from the IRS you are hiding information from people that can talk to computers."

Claire leaned her head against the car window and watched as Christmas shoppers walked by. "So all that was for nothing?"

"Not necessarily. I'm still looking through Patrick's email account."

Claire's breath fogged the glass. "This AAT place, it is in the city?"

"Yeah. Not far from the welcoming center in fact."

"Okay." She thought about what she was about the say and committed herself. "Then we are going to have to break in and find those hard copies."

Micah smiled. "I thought you didn't want a 'mission'?"

"That was before they threatened people I care about."

"I think that might be the Bennet family motto." Micah looked up from the tablet. "Are you serious about this? You can walk away and enjoy Christmas with your family."

"I still am having it with them. Can you find what the Church of the Nephilim is hiding if we get in?"

"I can find what they would rather keep from the public and prying eyes, but I don't know what sort of infrastructure they have in place. They might even have specials watching the building."

"Well, it is a good thing we have some of our own then." Claire glanced at the dashboard clock. "Can you put together a plan by tonight?"

Micah thought for a moment. "I might need to bring a third person in, if that's okay with you?"

"Who?"

Micah told her and Claire grimaced. "Good thing Elle didn't come along—she wouldn't have liked that."

"I won't tell her if you won't."

While Claire didn't agree to _that_ she did nod and say, "Make the call."

...

...

Elle was groggy but awake when the plane landed. Gretchen held her hand to both give support and draw some strength of her own. She hadn't heard any other disembodied voices and while she still felt queasy it was nothing like before.

As the plane taxied in, Gretchen stared out the window at sunny and bright Austin. A part of her missed dreary Virginia.

"You said something about an adventure?" Elle asked.

Gretchen shot her a look. "You said something about drowning?"

Carry ons went over their shoulders and they joined the flow of people heading toward the exits.

"Any last minute things I should know before I meet the 'rents?"

"No." Gretchen shook her head. "Just don't try to impress them by speaking Yiddish—we don't really do that. And don't call Hanukkah 'foreign Christmas'."

"It was only that one time," Elle muttered. "But point taken."

They walked from the disembark chute and passed a smiling flight attendant at the gate. "Welcome to Austin!" she said. "I hope you had a wonderful flight."

"Well, we didn't die so…" Elle gave her a double thumbs up.

"Just let them see that charm," Gretchen teased.

They picked up their bags, plus an extra one for Claire, and headed across the terminal. Elle held back slightly, slowing when she saw families awaiting passengers getting off another plane.

"Listen," she said, "I know I pushed for this along with Cheerleader but I'm going to break from pattern here and say I'm sorry ahead of time if I cause any problems. I thought I'd have Claire as backup when we planned this and I know on my own I don't exactly ooze goodwill."

"You ooze plenty. If there are any problems you won't be the cause. Trust me on that."

They found Martin Berg standing with a printed out sign featuring all three last names. It was almost comically long and a geeky thing to do; Elle muttered something under her breath about family resemblance.

He was younger than her by a couple of years, tall and lengthy without being gangly so. Gretchen remembered when she left for college he was eye level with her—now she had to look up at him. A light smattering of brown hair covered his jaw, but it was too patchy and incomplete to be called a beard. He wore a red Texas A&M sweatshirt.

Gretchen threw herself at him and kissed his face, shaggy hair and all.

"Hey, sis."

Elle hung back while they laughed and hugged. Family greetings, especially sloppy ones, weren't her specialty.

Gretchen caught her gaze and sidestepped out of the hug, extending a hand. "Martin, this is Elle Bishop. Elle, my brother Martin."

Elle moved to shake his hand but found sasquatch arms encircling her instead. "Uff. Wow, a family of huggers." She halfheartedly returned the embrace for several moments and then gave his back a hardy slap. "Okay there, John-boy, don't get carried away."

Martin stepped back and smiled big and wide. "Nice to meet you." He looked over her head. "Where's the, ah, other one?"

"Waylaid in New York," Gretchen said. "Claire will be here later."

"Oh. Okay." He took a bag from each of them and slung the straps over his shoulder like they were weightless. "Well, let's get you guys settled in. Mom's cooking a big meal so I hope you like to eat, Elle. You can have Claire's portion."

"Love to eat. That's me."

They started off, the Bergs leading the way while they chatted. "So is mom actually cooking?"

"Well, the same as always. She'll put the food on plates and throw out the grocery store's deli packing."

Outside the sun was bright in contrast to the snowy dreariness they'd left behind. Their breath fogged from their mouths just the same though; Elle pulled her coat tighter around her frame.

"They're excited to see you, Gretchen. Three phone calls in two years, really?"

"I email them every few weeks," she said. "I don't think I have much going on they'd care about anyway."

Martin sighed at that but didn't say anything.

Gretchen read her baby brother and confirmed her suspicions. "Nice to see I'm not wrong."

"That's not fair."

"No, it isn't."

They made their way through temporary parking. "Mom and dad are calling a truce—they are fine with you guys staying as long as no one…does anything."

"Excuse me?"

Martin turned toward Elle. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that the way it sounded. They are just worried that stuff might happen with two specials under the roof."

"I'll do my best to control myself. Can't make promises for Claire though—she's a wild woman."

Martin frowned, trying to figure out if she was serious or not. Gretchen didn't bother to help him. "You know, I'm cool with you guys. I'm a member of Families of Specials on campus. We have pins and everything."

Martin clicked a key fob and the lights flashed once on his car. The rear hatch helpfully opened by remote.

"Wow," Elle said, "I didn't peg you as a minivan guy, Martin. Are Mabel and the kids coming to dinner too?"

He laughed at that—genuinely, a good sign Gretchen knew. "It's mom and dad's. I have an 86 Shadow."

"Oh. Nice." Elle dumped her bag in the van and then climbed into the passenger seat. "What sort of horsepower do you get out of her?"

Gretchen settled in the backseat while he bragged about his bike. She wasn't sure how Elle was able to follow his boasts, but she was and even commenting on them. Elle Bishop making small talk.

Martin pulled smoothly from the parking lot and began the trip to their old house. She watched him and smiled faintly. She remembered taking him for his third try at the road test, not telling their parents because he was nervous and afraid of letting them down. Some how since passing the test that day he had gained a few inches over her and matured into a young man.

It wasn't, she reflected, all bad being back. Maybe all her worrying was for nothing.

Halfway across Austin, Gretchen turned her phone back on and a text from Claire greeted her: Spending one more night in NY. Nothing to worry about. Sorry! Love you guys!

She clicked reply and stared at the blank screen for a while before typing: All is fine so far. Will call later. Stay safe. LU2.

Outside the tinted windows the city gave way to suburbs. Lawns and homes began looking similar until they were indistinguishable from one another. Elle watched it all without comment from the front. Gretchen wondered what she saw when she looked at that.

She only knew broad strokes of what Elle's childhood had been like—enough that it depressed her just thinking about it. Suburbs either looked like a slice of hell to her, a different kind of prison than what she grew up in, or maybe it looked like the opposite.

Elle loved her father still in spite of everything and Gretchen wondered if somewhere buried deep inside the special there was a dream of Bob Bishop mowing the lawn every second Sunday.

The house looked exactly the same as when Gretchen packed up the Cube and pulled out. Two story, peaked roof, white with brown trim, and attached garage. A soup can in the window would have completed the painting.

Martin pulled into the driveway, honked the horn twice, and killed the engine. "End of the line," he said.

Gretchen took a deep breath and slid her door open. As Elle walked pass she whispered, "I can always blast them."

She was still laughing from that when she caught sight of Howard and Lillian Berg standing on the walk. Gretchen looked at them for a moment, they looked back, and then she was hugging them.

"We've missed you, sweetheart."

"Missed you too."

Elle cleared her throat and came to a stop behind Gretchen. She had a bag on each hip and the straps crossed over her chest like bandoleers.

Gretchen made the introductions and watched her parents carefully as they and Elle shook hands. It was awkward but good natured.

"Well, it is nice to finally meet you," Howard said. "Where is, ah, the second one?"

"Coming in later," Martin said. "I'll get that one too."

Lillian smiled. "Well, that is something to look forward to."

Martin started walking toward the door. "How about we take this inside where it is warm and there is a tv?"

"Right there with you, John-boy."

The living room was unchanged from her last visit and still looked set up for a home decor exhibit rather than a place to live in. Plush chairs formed a conversation circle with a coffee table in the middle, a neat spread of magazines in the center. Family photos lined the mantle as well as several end tables, not a speck of dust on any of them.

A fire popped and crackled in the fireplace and provided light and toasty warmth.

Beyond the living room was an open dining room that led to the kitchen. The table was already set even though dinner wasn't for a couple of hours yet. Gretchen knew her mom busied herself when she was anxious and fretting.

"Wow," Elle said looking around. "Nice house, Bergs."

"Thank you. Your room is second on the right up the stairs if you'd like to get cleaned up after the flight. Martin can show you."

"It's my old room," Gretchen said. "I'll show her."

"Oh." Lillian looked a little crestfallen. "We were hoping we could talk a bit first."

"Actually, it was a long flight. I'd like to rest before dinner." It wasn't quite a lie; Gretchen still wasn't feeling top notch. And if it kept her from an awkward conversation just a little longer then win-win.

"Okay." Elle looked back and forth from everyone, obviously trying to read the situation. "Can't wait to see upstairs?"

Martin had the good sense to drop off Claire's bag and then retreat once they were in Gretchen's room. She closed the door behind him and leaned against it.

Elle walked the small room, trailing her fingers over the computer desk and bookshelves. "You okay? Because in my head I saw that whole thing going a lot worse. Like Noah taking shots at me bad."

"Yeah. I'm just woozy."

Elle gestured to a folded up cot in the corner. "Do we need to have The Talk with dear old mom and dad?"

Gretchen laughed and sat on the corner of her old bed. "I'm pretty sure they don't like to think about the details. Look at the offer as a plus. You're lucky they didn't put you up in the den."

Elle shrugged. "I guess Claire and I can flip a coin for the cot."

"Don't be silly. It's tight but more than two grown people can fit in this bed." Gretchen rubbed her temples. "How do you think it is going in New York? Claire texted me and said she was staying another night."

"Simple job, huh? I'm really starting to hate that cyberpunk kid." Elle looked out the curtains at the street below. "I'll give her one more day and if she still isn't down here Martin and I can take the minivan on a road trip to go get her."

That had the desired effect: Gretchen smiled. She kept her feet on the floor but fell back on the bed.

Elle dropped the curtain and looked back with the look of realization on her face. "It just occurred to me that you are totally going to get banged in your childhood bedroom. That is like some sort of middle class fantasy, right?"

"Please. That ship came in the harbor a long time ago." Gretchen waved her hand toward the door. "So you like them? My family."

"Of course I do. I'm in the suburbs with the Bergs—it's a Hanukkah miracle!" Elle glanced around. "Exactly what do you mean by 'harbor'?"

...

...

"You've always been the independent sort," her mother said. "And we have always supported that in you."

"We're just worried about these choices."

The Bergs, three of them anyway, sat around the kitchen table.

Gretchen sighed. "It's not a choice. I love them."

"But do you really know what they can do? Have you asked them?"

"Yes, dad."

Lillian shook her head. "I don't even know the proper thing to say to people like that. Do I ask about their abilities? Or do I just wonder if any second one of them is going to…flash and the house will burn down."

"No one is going to burn the house down."

"But they could?"

"Anyone could, dad. The human race mastered fire a long time ago—you have matches next to the fireplace. Strike one and you could burn the house down."

"That isn't the same thing and you know it."

"It is the same thing! They are just people like you, me, and mom."

"Who can jump off ferris wheels and heal in minutes." She gestured weakly. "And God only knows what else the other one can do."

Gretchen set her gaze even though she didn't feel very steely. "Call Elle 'the other one' again and we'll pack up and leave. You won't see me again."

Howard rubbed the creases in his forehead. "Honey, we aren't trying to be difficult here—"

"But you are."

"Let me finish. No matter how you feel about them, being around specials is dangerous right now. That is a fact, not some sort of overprotective parent fear. The news every night is filled with stories about specials in trouble and causing trouble. We just want you to be safe."

Lillian put in, "And your two…friends would want that too."

"They do and I am safe." Gretchen stood. "You were right. In the past you always respected my choices, both when it came to my girlfriends and boyfriends. Well, you have to respect this too. Trust that I know what I'm doing and that the people I'm with have the best of intentions for me."

She left her parents looking not at all reassured.

...

...

The Bergs had a basketball hoop over their garage. And while Elle was sure Lillian could really shred the court, she wasn't surprised to see Martin playing ball in the driveway.

She stood for a moment on the walk watching him weave and dodge while keeping the ball dribbling. He faked left and then spun, threw, and missed the basket.

"What's the score?"

"Amazingly it is tied up." Martin retrieved the ball and dribbled it. "You play?"

Elle walked to the driveway. "I've seen it on tv."

"Good enough." He tossed her the ball.

Elle bounced it several times, getting the feel of it, and then lowered her stance. "Buck a basket?"

"I'm a poor college student."

"Spoil sport." She sidestepped and threw. It bounced off the rim and Martin took control of the ball. He started walking wide while she fell back to play defense.

"So how are you liking the visit so far?"

"Better than I think they like me." Elle jerked her head in the direction of the house. "Present company excluded."

"Thanks." He wheeled around but Elle easily blocked him and kept her arms up to take away shooting lanes. "I wasn't sure what to expect. Big sis has always had eclectic tastes in people."

"Well if I pass the white glove test then you'll love Claire. She's the good one." A stupid smile flash across her face before she could squash it.

"I really don't want to know how all that works do I?"

"Probably not."

Martin quickly stepped forward and shouldered her down while shooting one handed. Elle went back but was able to stretch up on her toes enough to clip the ball just enough to send it off the backboard. She recovered her balance and caught the ball on its third bounce.

"Not bad." They traded places. "You're small but fast."

"Thanks. You're tall but shaggy." She dribbled the ball and gestured to his sweatshirt. "You play there?"

Martin nodded. "I just keep the bench warm mostly."

"Well, you can't have cold benches." Elle quickly moved under his wide arm span and tipped the ball up and over the rim. "Guess it isn't a tied game any longer."

Martin laughed. "Okay, then. I guess I shouldn't be taking it easy on you since you're my sister's 'special guest'." He used his fingers to form quotation marks.

"Oh is that what you college kids are calling it these days?"

"Well we call it something else too but I'm trying not to be crude."

Elle held her arms open. "I seriously doubt you could out crude me, John-boy."

Martin jumped, switched the ball from right to left in mid step, and tossed it over her head. Elle's gaze snapped to the ball and she had to quell the instinct to blast it out of the air. She watched as it fell neatly through the hoop.

"Point to the home team. Tied game."

"Cute." Elle snapped her fingers. "Give me the damn ball. Bench warmer, huh?"

Martin became a solid wall of lengthy limbs in front of her. Elle was blocked left and right and almost had the ball stolen in mid bounce. She scrabbled to recover and made a quick jump shot. It missed and rebounded off the garage door.

Martin moved for it but before he could get off a throw Elle ran for him. She pivoted sharply on her heel, caught sight of the hoop in the corner of her eye, and drove her shoulder hard into his chest. The air left his lungs in a whoosh and the ball dropped from his hands to hers.

She completed the turn without losing sight of the hoop. Just like when she threw ball lightning, she took aim and let the basketball go.

It danced on the rim for a second but went in.

"Yes! Three points." Elle pointed a finger at him. "I believe the word you are looking for, Marv, is boomshakalaka."

Martin pushed his sleeves up. "Are you sure you aren't working some special ability on me? Maybe that is your power: street hoops."

"I can also tell when people are staring at me," Elle joked. "Nah, that was just a little self defense move my father taught me."

"Take back the night, huh?"

Elle retrieved the ball and tossed it to him. "Something like that."

They continued their game but both dialed back the intensity a few notches and kept it friendly. Martin did another quick step around Elle and dunked the ball.

"She must really care about you two," he said. "Gretchen."

"How do you mean?"

"Well." He dribbled the ball. "She was never a bring someone home type of person. At least not for a meet the parents type of visit. Plus I was here when the news about specials broke, when Gretchen's news about Claire Bennet broke, and I saw the fallout and it wasn't pretty.

"That she wants you to meet mom and dad and is braving their shitstorm to do it tells me a lot." He shot and missed. "I hope you guys appreciate that."

"We do."

"Good. Because I'd hate to have to kick your butt off the court too."

A few minutes and a few points later—plus a little shove Martin whined was a foul—a car slowed in front of the driveway. Elle turned to face it, the adrenaline from the game already making her ability itchy, and readied herself for some sort of confrontation.

The driver stuck his arm from the window and threw a folded newspaper at the house. It wasn't as good as her jump shot, Elle thought, but it arced across the lawn and hit the front step.

"Holy hell," she said, awed. "The Mayberry Gazette is the only physical paper in the world that still has an evening edition."

Martin waved to the driver and slapped Elle's shoulder. "Come on. We'll have to finish this later. Dinner time."

Elle grabbed the paper on their way inside. She glanced at the front. In the side corner was a story about a series of odd break ins and murders making its way across the state.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Dinner was a large spread from the local supermarket deli, served on pattern china.

Elle sat next to Gretchen, Claire's empty seat conspicuous next to her, while Lillian and Martin sat across from them. Howard took the head of the table.

"It's all lovely, Bergs," Elle said. "No dairy with the meat; just the way I like it."

Gretchen gave her a sidelong glance.

"Thank you." Lillian took a healthy sip of wine. "Gretchen failed to mention if you or th—Claire had any restrictive dietary needs. Or were vegetarian."

"None at all." Elle placed several spoonfuls of vegetables on her plate and handed the serving bowl down. "And I do love meat. Not ham or bacon though!"

Martin snickered into his hand.

"Son," Howard warned.

"Ah…and kosher of course," Elle said, scrambling for a save. "Gretchen keeps strict kosher at home."

Howard's expression softened slightly. "It is very kind of you to lie for my daughter's sake."

"We were rather fond of getting the high holy days off from school," Martin said. "That was about it."

Gretchen shrugged but agreed.

Utensils clicked against plates as they ate.

"So what do you do, Elle?"

"I'm a social worker of sorts," she said. "I help…specials."

"Oh. That's nice." Lillian shared a glance with her husband. "Have you been doing it long?"

"Couple of years. Ever since I di—had a health scare."

Howard raised his eyebrows. "I hope you are feeling better now."

"Oh, yeah. Just needed a little blood transfusion and I was good as new."

"That's nice." Howard glanced pointedly at Gretchen. "As is your specials work."

"Yeah, some of them mostly just need to talk to someone or learn about their ability. It is the least I can do since I screwed most of them over while I was with the Company." As the words left her mouth Elle knew it was the wrong thing to say.

"You worked for that organization on the news?"

Gretchen stepped in. "Yes, she was a Company agent like Claire's father."

"Wow." Martin looked from one person at the table to the next. "Way to go, sis. It's like you're filling out a bingo card."

There was a thump under the table and he winced.

"Well, bless your heart."

"Thank you, Lillian, I appreciate that."

Utensils clinked again and wineglasses were refilled.

"I'm, ah, looking forward to Hanukkah this year," Elle said. "It's my first. I've been reading up on it."

"Raised Catholic?" Martin asked.

Elle shook her head. "Not raised anything, really."

"Elle's father kept her rather sheltered," Gretchen said diplomatically.

"He did at that," Elle agreed.

Howard gestured. "Have you heard from Claire Bennet? I hope all is well."

"She texted in the car," Gretchen said. "She's staying another night in New York."

"Does she have family there?"

"Yes, but she isn't visiting. She's helping—"

"An old friend of ours," Elle finished. "Keeping him company. Holidays can be tough for some people."

Martin nodded as he chewed. "Bless her heart too, huh?"

...

...

"Claire?"

She glanced up from her phone, thumbing the ignore button on the missed call. "Yeah?"

"We're ready," Micah said. "I need you present for this."

"Sorry." Claire clicked off her phone.

He gave an understanding nod. "I'd give you one last chance to back out but I think it is too late for that."

"It's fine. Let's just get this done." She straightened the dark clothes she'd changed into for the mission.

Across the alley from her Micah was similarly dressed. Above him was a sign that read 'shipping and receiving'. Next to that was a welcome mat for a technopath: a sign that said 'protected by security cameras'. He tapped the screen of his tablet and then touched his earwig. "How's up above look?"

"Ready whenever you are," a voice crackled in Claire's ear.

"Let's hope we won't need an evac," he said. "You're backup only. If all goes well we will just walk out the same way we walked in."

"Roger that, Red Leader."

Micah tucked his tablet into a shoulder bag and walked to the fire exit. No handle or knob on the outside, the door was electronically sealed from the inside for emergency use only. Micah put his hand on the door, closed his eyes, and seconds later it clicked open. "After you."

Claire peered inside and then stepped over the threshold. She reached for the ski mask on top of her head and started to pull it down.

Micah stopped her. "Cameras are dark. I programmed a system reboot; it'll give us a few minutes to get upstairs."

The door shut behind them and the lock engaged once more.

They were in a receiving area, large drop doors covered bays used by delivery trucks. The main lights were off but emergency lights outlined the walls and provided a dim glow.

"This way." Micah started walking. "Most of the security should be on the lower levels. Anything above the twentieth floor is locked after business hours."

"Is that going to be a problem?"

"Shouldn't." He glanced over his shoulder at her. "This isn't my first B and E."

The halls started looking more corporate as they moved toward the front. Utilitarian walls gave way to neutral paint, fake plants, and nondescript artwork. Micah walked like he knew exactly where he was going, like he was an executive on his way up to the office.

This really wasn't his first B and E, she knew. Long before she outed specials he was doing just this thing as Rebel against Building 26. Not for the first time she wondered exactly what he and Elle did when she went off on assignments for him. It wasn't always just talking to damaged specials, she knew.

They found a pair of elevators down an empty corridor. Micah touched the call panel and the doors opened with a ding loud enough to make Claire wince.

"It's fine," he said. "No one is coming."

They stepped into the elevator. "I don't suppose you can see through the cameras?"

"Not yet. It is closed circuit so I have to get to a security station to splice in a loop and then take control to monitor them."

The buttons above floor twenty were dark on the elevator's controls. At his touch though they came to life. He pressed the one for floor thirty.

"That's the nearest auxiliary station above the lock," he said. "It should be empty for the night. I'll set up there and guide you where you need to go."

"Okay."

The elevator lurched underneath them and began rapidly climbing.

"AAT is on the thirty-eighth floor." He stared at her. "You still good?"  
Claire swallowed. "Yeah, I'm good."

Muzak was playing and she caught sight of their reflections in the door: two dark clad cat burglars complete with masks. It would have been comical under different circumstances.

The doors opened with another loud ding to a dark hall. Micah peered out and then nodded to her. "Keep your earwig in and I'll talk you through it." He touched the thirty-eighth floor button and stepped out before the doors closed. "Good luck."

Again the floor lurched and she was moving up.

"All is still clear in the sky," a tiny voice crackled in her ear. "If you were wondering."

Claire smiled. "I wasn't, but thank you."

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened.

"Don't leave yet," Micah said. "The system might have finished rebooting so the cameras could be live. I'm in the auxiliary station now—give me a second to get full access."

Claire blocked the door with her foot and stayed safely inside. She glanced up and wondered how tightly they kept the cameras monitored. Because surely the elevators had them too. "Micah…" she breathed. "Now would be g—"

"Done," he said in her ear. "Cameras are looped and I'm in the building's security system. Scanning the floor now."

Claire stepped into the dark and let the doors close behind her. She was in a small lobby, reception desk directly in front of her and smaller offices off to her left. To the right was a hall. She adjusted the earwig. "Which way?"

"Your floor looks clear," he said. "Go to your right and read off the names on the doors. I'm hacking into their client list now."

Claire dug a small flashlight out of her shoulder bag and flipped it on. Down the hall were a series of offices, all closed. She shined her light on the nameplate next to each one. "Dobson, S. Sterling, B."

"Not them. Keep moving."

"Williams, R. Williams, A. Mmm, must be married."

"Not them either. Interesting client list though. I wouldn't mind seeing some of those files."

"Well, as long as we're here," Claire said dryly. "Hockligher, R. Tam, C."

"Hockligher," Micah said. "That's the one."

Claire tried the doorknob. Locked.

"Hold on."

She put the flashlight handle in her mouth and reached into the bag for the tool Micah had given her in case she ran across a locked door. She found the small metal tool and pulled it out. At one end were two grooved pins and the other end a trigger.

The pins slipped into the lock and she turned her wrist like Micah showed her until she felt the grooves fall into place. She squeezed the trigger gently so nothing would break off in the mechanism and heard the lock turn.

She withdrew the pick gun and tried the knob again. It opened.

"I'm in."

"Good. Tell me what you see."

Claire shined her light. "There's a desk but this is more of a store room than office. Heavy duty filing cabinets mostly."

"Alphabetized?"

Claire closed the door behind her and looked at the nearest cabinet. "Numbers."

"Damn. Give me a second to crack their encryption."

There were no windows in the office and everything seemed stuffy and smelled like ink. This was the digital future, she thought ruefully. Hard copies in place of hard drives to hide from hackers and specials. Just a couple of years ago Micah would have been able to find out this information from a search engine.

She realized then that it was entirely possible the church had learned the hard copy trick from the Company. That meant there could be Company records kept out of digital storage they haven't even found, and possibly never would.

"Try case B48 to C21," Micah said.

Claire found the right file cabinet and again had to use the lock pick gun to open the drawer. Inside she found thick folders packed with loose papers and notes clipped to them. It was hard with gloves on, but she flipped through several pages looking for telling information. "'The Church of the Nephilim'," she read. "Got it."

"Good. Get to work. I won't take my eyes off your six."

Elle's voice in her head took exception to that comment and Claire figured the former agent really was a bad influence on her. She kept the joke to herself however and began pulling folders out of the drawer. There were three total, hundreds of pages, all associated with the Church of the Nephilim.

Claire lowered them all to the floor and dropped her bag along side them. She pulled out her phone and another gadget from the bag. The gadget plugged into the charging port on her phone and lit up, bright blue in the otherwise dark office.

She opened the first folder and then ran the small hand scanner down the entire length. Flipping the cover page over, she repeated the scan.

"Micah," Claire said. "I'm seeing some familiar terms in some of these records."

"What do you mean?"

"Bag and tag, level containment, procedures regarding certain abilities. Company terminology."

Static crackled over the line for several seconds while both specials considered that.

"Get what you can," he said finally. "We'll go over it back at the townhouse."

It was slow frustrating work. Claire knelt on the office floor for what felt like hours. It was her imagination, she knew, and did her best to keep the scanner moving steady even when she wanted to hurry. Save for the occasional audio pick up of Micah typing the comm was silent too.

...

...

Eight floors below, Micah also knelt on the floor. He had his tablet jacked into a nearby computer terminal. His fingers idled over the touch screen as he listened to what the network had to tell him. Feed from the now privatized security cameras popped up in the corner of his computer as he scanned the floors for activity.

He tried to get the network to tell him how often AAT received shipments from the Church of the Nephilim, but it didn't want to cooperate with him.

He was about to try another avenue of attack when movement caught his eye from the computer screen. Micah adjusted his stance and glanced at the feed location.

"Claire, you might have a problem."

"What?"

"Two security guards three floors below you."

"I thought the floors were clear?"

"They were," he said. "That's the problem."

On the screen the two uniformed guards were inspecting the elevator he and Claire had used. Both were large burly men and, he saw, armed with guns.

"What are they doing?"

"Nothing yet. How is your scanning going?"

"I'm halfway through the second folder. Another full one to go."

One guard started talking into a radio, nodding in agreement when he heard something back. He gestured to his partner.

As Micah watched, the second guard dropped to all fours and started sniffing the ground. He stopped at the control panel and led with his nose as he stood.

"At least one of them is a special," Micah said. "A tracker. Get out of there now, Claire."

"I'm not done yet."

On the screen, the first guard spoke into his radio and moments later red lights started flashing on Micah's tablet. And then a siren sounded.

...

...

"I'm not done yet," Claire said. She scrambled to put the already scanned files back into the drawer. The third still lay in parts at her feet.

Suddenly an alarm sounded through the office. "Micah! What is that?" She pushed the earwig in as far as it would go to hear him.

"Intruder alarm," he said, sounding like he was running. "The security system is on to me. I'm trying to keep all electronic doors from locking. Get out of there and take the stairs—elevators are too hard to keep unlocked."

Claire glanced down at the unscanned folder and debated with herself for a second. Then she grabbed the folder and slid it into her bag with all the other tools and her phone. She took one last look around for anything left behind that could identify them and then started running.

"Which way?"

"All the way down the hall and to your left. There is a stairwell that goes up. Take it all the way to the roof and wait for extraction."

She was already moving. "What about you?"

"I'm on my way down now. I can get to a freight elevator not connected to the main system. I left behind a virus in their system that will buy us some time and erase the last few hours of camera footage."

"If you need a pick up tell him," Claire said as she rounded the corner. "I can always jump."

"Don't. There are guards on the lower levels and you might not heal fast enough to get away. Plus, there are going to be firefighters here soon."

"Why?" Micah wasn't the scorched earth type, but Claire still wondered for a moment if he would burn the building down to escape.

"We have a tracker after us," he said. "I'm not sure how powerful he is so we need to lose our scents now so we don't lead him back to the townhouse. I rigged the fire suppression system. Sorry."

A new alarm sounded in conjunction with the first, this one a familiar ringing. Claire figured out what it was seconds before all the sprinklers went off at once. Icy cold water rained down and caused her to gasp in surprise.

He was right though so she made sure she was good and soaked before pushing the stairwell door open and heading up. A tracker powerful enough could follow a scent clear across the city. She took the steps two at a time, the heavy file in her bag slapping against her thigh with each step.

Several floors below, she heard a door slam open and the sound of heavy footfalls climbing after her. "I've got company," she said. "How does that pick up look?"

"Coming in hot," Micah's partner answered. "Ready when you are."

Claire was still in good cheer camp shape and easily quickened her pace up the flights of stairs. The men below her sounded large and ponderous—they were moving at a good clip but she had the edge.

Praying that Micah had managed to keep the locks open, Claire rounded the landing to the roof access and hit the door at full speed. It opened and she was back out in the cold night air and acutely aware of every drop of water she was carrying from Micah's firemen trick.

Claire pulled her mask down to hide her face. "I'm on the north side," she said. "I need pick up now."

The sky above was empty save for stars and the moon. Below she heard the guards clear the final landing.

Sighing with impatience, Claire slammed the door shut and looked around for something to barricade it with. "Now would be a good time."

"I've got you," a voice said in her ear. "Start moving."

Claire didn't have to be told twice. She ran for the roof's edge.

The door opened and both guards hurried out to the roof. Claire took a deep breath as she neared the edge but didn't slow. A rush of displaced air nearly knocked her over, but arms encircled her waist and the ground vanished below her feet.

"Put your arms around my neck and hold on," West Rosen said. "We're clear."

Claire clung to him, making sure her bag was pinned between them so it couldn't empty as he twisted and zigged their trajectory. Gunfire sounded behind them but they were already accelerating away.

"She's out," West said. "Do you need pickup, Red Leader?"

There was silence on the comm for several long moments and then, "Negative. I'm on my way out now."

Claire relaxed as they shot through New York airspace and out across the Hudson River. That had been far closer than they planned for. How convenient, she thought, that specials were indeed guarding the church's storage facilities.

...

...

Later, at Micah and Molly's townhouse, Claire watched as the technopath looked over the data they stole. "I figured any likelihood of us going undetected had been blown out the window," she said pointing at the file folder.

"Yeah," he said, clearly not pleased, "but we wouldn't have announced to the church that they were being targeted."

Claire shrugged. "I saw an opportunity and took it."

Micah nodded. "Hopefully it was worth it."

The New Jersey brownstone, a foreign investment firm to all the neighbors, was a nondescript office building on the outside but inside it had been completely redesigned. Wood paneling and soft recessed light gave a homey feel. One of the walls between what used to be the reception area and one of the larger offices was missing, creating a wide living space. Chairs and a sofa sat in a semi circle in the center of the great room. Several TVs hung on the wall, all muted with closed captioning running along the bottom of the screens.

Elle liked to joke the brownstone was a special halfway house, but Claire saw it for what Micah and Molly had clearly intended: a home for those that needed one. Upstairs were converted bedrooms for specials they were helping; downstairs Micah kept an office well stocked to be worthy of a war room. She was sure there were other defenses she couldn't see but it all amounted to the same thing. A safe place.

As a special there was something about this home that she couldn't pin down exact, but she felt safe here. Knowing Elle stayed here on missions eased some of Claire's worry about them.

Molly stepped into the living room carrying a tray. She caught Claire's gaze and smiled as though she knew exactly what she was thinking. "Tea?" she asked, holding up the tray.

Molly Walker was the other half of Micah's campaign and a big part of that home like feeling the brownstone offered. She rarely used her ability these days, having given it up before the rebellion, but that didn't lessen her drive to the cause. Surprisingly, or maybe not as Claire thought about it, she was the one person that Claire had never seen Micah finagle in his plans or pushed to use her ability.

"Thank you." Claire accepted a cup off the tray and watched as Molly moved to West who was stretched prone on one of the couches.

The three of them, Micah, Molly, and West went back a long time, Claire knew. All the way to Building 26, the rebellion, and the underground movement.

West took one of the teacups too and nodded his thanks. It was steaming hot so he sat up to sip it.

Molly didn't give Micah a choice; she handed him the second to last cup on the tray and took the final one herself. She sat next to him and let one hand rest comfortingly against his neck.

Claire smiled at that small action. She considered her phone for a second before putting it away. She missed Elle and Gretchen but it was after midnight here so it was very late in the Midwest. She didn't want to wake them up.

Micah began separating the file folder into parts. "Well, everyone," he said, "pick one and start digging. Claire's phone uploaded the other files to my cloud so there is plenty to go around."

West picked up one of the stacks. "What are we looking for exactly?"

"Something fishy that the church is doing with old Company properties," Micah said. "Or just fishy in general. I'll take that at this point."

"I went in for a first tier reading once," West said, "and they still bug me by email looking to upgrade my status with the church. Does that count?"

All three specials stared at him.

"What? It was free and I thought it would be fun. I didn't know they were some sort of corporate cult then."

Claire's stack turned out to be mostly boring travel expenditures. The church had missionary work all over the world plus several start up branches they were fostering. Several of the countries in the reports were decidedly anti special so if the church was looking for recruits they would find a willing special population.

There were domestic missionaries too, she read. All over the United States, particularly the Deep South. Fearful churchgoers, Claire thought. A special geared non-denominational faith would look appealing to a lot of people with abilities down there.

"I don't suppose we could just index search evil plan with the online data, huh?" West asked.

Molly laughed but she looked just as bleary eyed as the rest of them.

"I found some project names," Micah said not looking up from his tablet. "They could be Company related. I will have to cross search the names with my Company files to be sure."

Claire shifted and sat on her left leg. "What sort of names? Maybe my dad mentioned one."

"White Lotus, Freefall, Project Stephen, Moonset Initiative."

"A couple of those sound like band names," Molly joked. "Bad bands."

"Was your dad in a band, Claire?"

She smiled and shook her head. "None of those sound familiar."

"A couple of them might to me," Micah mused. "I think they might have been related to rare abilities the Company was documenting second hand until they were able to prove them. Stories of stories, that sort of thing. I'll make a note and check them out."

"I'd like to know what sort of ability Freefall could mean," West said. "Might be handy not to run into Mr. Freefall while I'm cruising along the friendly skies."

"I was a project file too in the beginning," Molly said. "It might not mean what you think it means. It is just a code word for agents to use."

"So if the church is looking for rare specials what could they want with them? If they've avoided the Company's radar, Pinehearst's, and Building 26 then chances are they don't want to be found."

Micah shrugged. "Samuel was off the grid too. But it is possible they are just looking to add them to the fold. Or the Company could have high level specials tucked away so deep in a maze of dummy corporations and lost paperwork that the founders themselves couldn't find them.

"Maybe the church is looking to unleash someone on the world."

That thought hung heavy in the room. Both the idea that there could be another highly powered individual out there and the horror that the Company might have numbers of them imprisoned and forgotten about around the world.

"Other people have normal Christmases," West said, trying to lighten the mood.

"What's that?" Claire asked.

"Would anyone like some more tea?" Molly asked. "I would."

"Yes, please." Claire handed the cup back just as her pocket started to ring. She blinked in surprise at the late hour and pulled her phone out. The caller id brought a smile to her face.

Claire stood and moved to the foyer for privacy before touching the answer button. "Hello, Elle. I'm—"

"Turn the news on, Cheerleader," the voice on the other end of the line cut her off. "We've got a huge problem."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

"This is why you shouldn't speed," Light said, watching the side mirrors as the officers walked up.

"I was eager," Salt said simply.

"First time in your life."

One highway patrol officer hung back on the passenger side while the other tapped on the driver side window. "License, registration and proof of insurance please."

Salt already had the documents in hand. He rolled the window all the way down and handed them out. "I was speeding," he stated.

Light rolled his eyes.

"Yes, you were." The officer shined his flashlight on the license and then in Salt's face. "Noticed you had out of state plates. What are doing in these parts?"

"Looking up an old friend of mine," Light said. "As you can hear I'm not from this fine country and cannot legally drive here. Big fella offered to take me."

The officer didn't seem to appreciate Light cutting in and traded a glance with his partner. "Is that so? What's this friend's name?"

"Stephen," Salt said. "We are unsure of his last name—it depends on the people that hid him away."

Another glance and the officer stepped back. "Step out of the car, son."

Salt looked at the clock on the dashboard and then back to him. "I'm sorry but if I do that we will be late. We have a long way to go yet."

The officer unsnapped his holster. "Not going to ask you again. Step out of the car and keep your hands where I can see them."

Salt looked at Light.

"Not on me," Light said. "You were the one with the block foot. Just keep me out of the crossfire."

Both officers drew their guns…and promptly dropped them before they could raise their arms. Salt sat calmly at the wheel, his eyes unfocused and aimed straight ahead.

The officer behind Light turned and tried to get back to his cruiser but his legs wouldn't respond properly and he fell. His shoulder hit the back end of the car and Light heard brittle bone snap before disintegrating into dust.

At the driver side window the officer opened his mouth to scream but his vocal cords were already gone. His skin cracked apart but no blood came out. Small raisin like beans, what used to be his eyes, fell out of his skull as the nerves and muscles turned to powder. He crumbled to the ground.

Light turned the mirror down and watched as the second officer curled in on himself in one last instinctual attempt to stop whatever was happening to him. It wouldn't work of course. Once Salt decided he wanted you dead the only thing up to you was how fast you fell.

Only minutes after the red and blue lights had come on behind the car, both officers were dead and their bodies were blowing away in the wind. Their clothes remained on the ground but all human tissue returned to the ash and dust it came from. Amen.

"Only because I like you," Light said and popped his door open. Leaning partially out, he let free his ability at the patrol cruiser. Ten small lightning bolts flew from his fingers and played over the car. Paint peeled back, lights went wild, and the horn sounded briefly before it too died.

Light kept pouring power into the cruiser. Windows cracked and then exploded. Fire ignited and it along with Light's touch turned the car into a burned out metal husk.

"Right then." Light flopped happily back into his seat. "Americans do love their dashboard cameras—probably because they also love their illegal beatings."

Salt opened his door and retrieved his license and car documents from the ground. "Yes, we do."

Light flicked his wrist but didn't cast so much as a spark. "Carry on."

...

...

Gretchen was not normally a bath person. Showers, both solo and group, were more of her preferred cleaning method. After dinner, however, she excused herself from family activities and went upstairs to run the hottest bath she could bear. It was probably high on the awful things to do on the girlfriend list to leave Elle down there to fend for herself, but Gretchen needed to get out.

Her head was pounding like it was going to explode and her heart felt like it was going to come out of her chest. If either of those things happened she figured her mom wouldn't appreciate the mess in the kitchen.

She didn't know why the stress was still affecting her so. The initial part was over and it hadn't gone badly. Elle was on point and aside from almost having to explain how she died once and Claire brought her back to life nothing bad had happened.

The anxiety attacks should be over.

Gretchen gripped the sides of the tub and breathed in and out slowly. Hear that body, she thought. No more anxiety.

In response her skin shivered with cold even though she was submerged in hot water. Her teeth began to chatter.

That can't be good, she thought.

Gretchen looked down. Through bubbles and soap film she could see the ceiling reflected in the rippling water. It wasn't the same ceiling above her. Gretchen doubled checked but the upstairs bathroom hadn't changed in the few years she'd been gone. It was still white with a tiny water stain and crack in the far corner.

The ceiling reflected in the water was sky blue with fake looking clouds painted on it. No, this definitely was not good.

"You're my friend," the voice from the airplane lavatory whispered.

"I really have to stop using the bathroom," Gretchen said. Then, "Hello? Stephen? Are you here?"

"You're my friend," it said again. "The bad men are coming. They aren't friends."

A new kind of worry sprang up along with the seven hundred others she was thinking about. "There are bad men coming here?"

"I need to leave this place so they don't get me. You need to make her help."

"Where are you?" Gretchen tried pushing up to a sitting position, but sharp pain shot through her head all the way down to her tailbone and made her fall back into the tub. Water sloshed over the edge and ran across the floor. "Oh God."

"Help." The voice was sounding less friendly.

"Okay, okay." Gretchen was trying to keep her breathing even but it wasn't working. Her body felt disconnected from her mind, like she was falling asleep.

The dreams are important. She wasn't sure if that thought was her own or not. It took focus just to tighten her grip on the tub. There was a growing gap between her body and her mind. If she didn't act fast she was going to pass out and sink underneath the water.

"I'm going to drown," she tried to say, to reason with the voice or the force pushing against her, but the words came out as one long jumble.

Regardless it didn't seem interested in what she had to say. "The bad men know where I am."

The pain was still there but as her mind drifted away, Gretchen felt it less. She swung her left arm over to her right on the edge of the tub. It flopped over like a limb slept on all night.

"The scary lady will kill one," Stephen said. "But that hasn't happened yet. Easy to forget but can't."

"Stop please," she grasped and tried to push her feet against the floor.

"I need you to remember to make it real. Remember to make it real. Understand?"

Not even a little, she thought. Heaving herself against the side of the tub, she managed to get her shoulders out of the water and over the edge. Her feet flopped a couple of times trying to find enough of a grip to send her the rest of the way to the floor.

Gretchen couldn't even manage to turn on to her back after that. She lay on her side, listening to the sound of blood rushing in her ears. Wishing that she had mentioned the panic attack on the airplane to Elle, she finally and mercifully blacked out.

...

...

Elle intended to help Martin and Lillian clean up after dinner—oddly enough Lillian had already taken the trash out, making sure the discarded deli boxes were hidden—but Gretchen's father had other plans.

"May I see you for a moment?" he asked.

"Um, okay." Elle handed the towel she had been using to Martin. He gave her an unreadable lift of his eyebrows that didn't fill her with hope that Howard wanted to give her a merry Hanukkah gift a night early.

She followed Howard to a small den off the living room. It was clearly the Berg man cave with an overstuffed easy chair, bookshelves, and pool table.

"Would you like a drink?" He headed for a small wet bar in the corner. "I'm having one."

"Sure." Elle slipped her hands into her back pockets and looked around.

Howard fixed two scotch and sodas and handed her one. She was more of a straight up cheap whiskey kind of gal but thanked him and sipped it. "So is this the 'what are your intentions toward my daughter' speech?" She smiled.

"No." Howard sat in the easy chair and gestured for her to take a smaller chair across from him. "I've given up on speeches to my little girl's friends. She was always the sort to go against the grain when it suited her so trying to scare off unsavories never did much good."

"Yeah, that sounds like her." The scotch went down warm and pooled nicely in her stomach. Mr. Berg did have good taste in some things, she decided.

"One thing I learned from watching her grow up," he continued, "was through all her questionable choices. Boyfriends, girlfriends, and probably whatever is in between, her mother and I could always depend on one thing.

"They always ended."

Elle didn't say anything and kept her expression blank.

"You see, that is the thing about her. Gretchen loves to be in love and once the initial rush is over she decides that person—or persons—isn't for her and moves on. Oh sure it lasts longer with others, but the end result is always the same." He took a deep drink. "So that is also why I don't bother with speeches. Because I have a feeling that come next year, we won't be seeing each other."

The desire to burn the smirk off his face and listen to him as he screamed underneath her ability was like a physical force underneath her skin. He had absolutely no idea who or what he was talking to. With great effort, Elle smothered her ability and kept it from jumping free.

"Is that it?" she asked through clenched teeth.

Howard thought for a moment. "No. I don't like you people."

"Us people?"

"Specials, enhanced humans, or whatever you are calling yourselves these days. I don't like you."

Elle narrowed her eyes. "Well, for some of us people the feeling is mutual."

He smiled. "I know it isn't a PC thing to say these days, but it is true. Pundits talk about all the benefits specials can give us poor lowly nons but I've yet to see someone fly to a starving third world country and make crops grow with a wave of his hand. Or a weather maker plant himself on a shoreline and stop an oncoming hurricane.

"You know what I see?" He reached across the end table and pulled the evening edition closer. "A crime spree where victims are burned alive and turned to dust."

Elle caught the paper when he tossed it to her.

"You tell me why I should feel differently about your kind when that is what you give us instead of feeding hungry people."

"I don't know." She glanced at the story and halfheartedly read some of the details. "But I get the feeling that if there were storm stoppers and crop growers you would find something wrong with them too. Because I've been far and wide, Mr. Berg, working for organizations your little non special mind couldn't even begin to understand and I've learned a few things about _your_ kind.

"Some times you people just like to hate things that are different than you. And right now it doesn't get much more different than us." Elle drained her glass and stood. "Thanks for the drink."

She turned to leave but stopped at the door. "One other thing. My father wasn't a nice man. He did bad things to both me and other people. Through it all though I loved him—I still love him. I also love Gretchen and she feels the same way about you.

"It is for that reason and no other you aren't smeared across this floor right now. Because you are right that specials can be pretty scary. They can mess you up in ways you can't even imagine or frankly stop. Well, just the mention of Company agents like me can make those same specials piss themselves with fear."

...

...

Elle stormed up to their room and slammed the door. Once she was out of sight, lightning jumped from her skin. It went to ground through the wood floor and she held back from leaving scorch marks. The satisfaction of destroying something would feel incredibly good though.

She paced the room until the worked up energy started to abate. Sitting on the edge of the bed she let free a string of curses at Gretchen's father, none of them kind to Gretchen's grandmother. At least Noah had a good reason for disapproving of her…and the level head to put that aside when he had to.

This being hated just because was new and Elle didn't like it one bit.

Fantasies of what she could do to Howard Berg still danced in her head. Elle dug around in their luggage for her phone and turned it on.

Claire's number went directly to voicemail without ringing. Either she had a good reason for turning it off—one that probably meant she was in the field—or the little curly headed chess master was blocking incoming calls for some reason.

Right now Elle didn't like either idea.

For a moment she considered calling Noah. A word from her and he'd be in Jersey by dawn to drag Claire away from the front line by her regenerating ear. Plus she oddly enough kind of wanted to talk to him right now. Their relationship would never be sunshine and rainbows but they were ex partners and he put up with her for Claire's sake if nothing else.

Her thumb was inching toward the contact button when a knock sounded on her door. It was to the tune of Shave and a Haircut so she had an idea who it was.

"What?" she snapped.

Martin stuck his head inside. "Should I wave a white flag?"

"Are you surrendering?"

"I don't think so."

"Then no." She tossed the phone behind her. "Come in."

He closed the door. "So I bet that didn't go well."

She gave him a dry smile. "What gave it away?"

"Listen…they are old fashioned." Martin scratched at his almost beard. "They're offensive but they don't realize exactly how much. And they don't represent all of us nons."

"Because you're in a support group?"

"Hey, at least I'm trying! Gotta admit that having your sister call you up to say that she's living with two people, like living living, and oh by the way both are superhuman isn't exactly a common occurrence. I'm doing my best."

Elle nodded and blew out a long breath. "Yeah and it is appreciated. Thanks."

"For what it is worth I think you're pretty cool. So what if my sis is a special banger? We all got our thing."

To her amazement, that actually made her feel better. "You a psych major?"

"Nope." He puffed out his chest. "Philosophy."

"Switch."

Martin seemed to consider that. "Cool. I'm down the hall if you need to talk."

"Thanks. Night, John-boy."

After he left Elle didn't feel like going back downstairs and fortunately the Bergs didn't share Claire's distaste for tvs in the bedroom. She flipped through their family friendly channel package but couldn't find anything good on. Settling on a mindless movie she'd seen several times, Elle kicked her shoes off and waited for Gretchen to come back.

Or Claire to call. Or something. Anything would be good right about now, she thought.

The movie was half over, right in the middle of a zany adventure and comical misunderstanding, when concern started replacing annoyance.

Clicking the tv off, Elle peered out into the hallway. The Bergs were still downstairs, hopefully for the night since the master bedroom was down there too, and the second level was dark. John-boy was probably in his room studying Socrates or smoking weed. Or both.

Elle padded out to the closed bathroom door. "Doe Eyes?" She knocked but there was no answer. "If you went out the window I'm going to be pissed."

Nothing.

"Gretchen, open the door." She tried the knob and found the door unlocked. "I'm coming in."

Inside was a mess. Water splashed against her bare feet and made her instinctively flinch. The tub was still full with the faucet dripping into the now cold water. Gretchen lay on the tile floor, shivering but otherwise unmoving.

"Oh crap." Mindful of the water, Elle rushed in and grabbed a towel off the rack. She dropped down to her haunches and wrapped the towel around Gretchen. Rolling her off her side Elle gasped in shock and jumped back.

She landed with a splash and the seat of her pants was instantly soaked with bathwater.

Gretchen's eyes were open, blinking, and milky white. Normally brown irises now covered in a distinctive and familiar film. A precog using his or her ability.

Elle stared mouth agape for several long moments. At the Company she'd seen it several times in controlled experiments and out in the field but never in…

"Gretchen?"

Sightless eyes blinked back at her.

"Oh, Jesus Christ on a stick." Elle ran her hand back through her hair. Water dripped unnoticed down her face. "This is not happening." She glanced at the open door half expecting to see Howard standing there with an execution squad. Just a dark hall though and a long way back to their bedroom.

"Okay. Okay. I have to get you out of sight." Poor choice of words, she thought. Scrambling to her feet, Elle wrapped the towel around Gretchen the best she could and pulled her up. The younger woman wasn't unconscious just not fully present so she wasn't dead weight.

Elle put her arm around Gretchen's waist and walked her forward. They both left a wet trail down the hall as they traveled. "We have to get Stephen," she muttered. "They are coming for him. Remember Stephen."

Claire really, really picked a bad time to go all big city on them. Elle opened the bedroom door and guided her inside. Taking one last look around, she followed her in and closed the door.

Gretchen stood blankly in the center of the room, her hair wet and matted on one side of her head, wrapped in a towel dripping on the carpet.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Elle said. "Since when are you a—"

The Savior above decided to pick that appellation to get off his ass and respond to and knocked Gretchen out of her trance. Elle caught her shoulders to keep her from crumpling completely.

"Elle?" she rasped. "What happened?"

Moving her to the bed, Elle dropped down to her knees and turned Gretchen's head from side to side looking at her from different angles. She wasn't seeing or feeling what she should if Gretchen was a special. It wasn't exact, but she could usually spot one in a crowd if she looked hard enough.

"You're freaking me out. What happened?"

"Keep your voice down. What do you think happened?"

Gretchen hugged herself and rubbed her arms for warmth. "I…I was dreaming I think."

"About what?" Elle began stripping the bed and throwing sheets around Gretchen.

"Those same men from before. The killers on a spree."

Elle paused. "Say that again."

Gretchen blinked and shook her head, as though trying to clear it. "Those nightmares I told you about. It was them again but this time instead of breaking into a house and torturing and killing people they were driving down a road, hurrying to get somewhere in Texas."

Elle's bad feeling got worse. By a lot. "Don't suppose you were listening to the news just before each one of these dreams, huh?"

"No. Why? You're freaking me out again."

"Because I think those wacky scary dreams are wacky real life. You've been seeing crimes that have been happening across several states."

"You mean all that"—Gretchen looked like she was going to be sick—"actually happened to those people. Oh my God."

"Took the words right out of my mouth, babe." Elle sat next to her. "And just now I found you in the bathroom with your eyes white. Like you were using an ability."

Gretchen stared at her. "I'm a—?"

"I don't know."

"How? I'm, I mean, I've never—"

"I don't know."

Gretchen looked down at her water-pruned hands like they were going to suddenly turn into fins. "What are we going to do?"

"I still don't know."

They sat in silence for a long while, both mulling over what was happening. Finally, Elle pulled herself together and stood. She was a Company agent, she reminded herself. Like her father trained her to be. "Okay," she said. "We're going to take control of the small things first and go up the ladder until we have a hold on everything.

"First thing, your parents can't know until we are sure. Trust me, if this is happening then that ain't going to go over well. You wait here and I'm going to clean up the bathroom. Then we call Claire and find you a doctor or something."

"A doctor? I'm not pregnant," she said. "At least I hope that isn't what my power is."

"And we just found an even more uncomfortable conversation to have with mom and dad." Elle smiled and rubbed her shoulders through the sheets. "Don't worry. We'll figure this out. It's what we do."

Out in the hall, Elle marched back to the bathroom. She paused in the doorway, thought for a second, and then walked to Martin's door. She knocked once and then opened it.

He was reclining at his desk with big headphones on and his iPod in his lap. "Hey! You can't just do that. What if I was watching anime porn or something?"

"I—what?!"

"Nothing." He paused the iPod. "Need something?"

Elle nodded. "I need you to man the hell up and be the best future brother-in-law in a very liberal tri-marrage state you can be. Can you do that for me?"

He climbed to his feet and tugged at the hem of his shirt. "I'm on board. What do you need?"

"Grab some towels and follow me."

They made quick work of the bathroom and Martin even offered to throw the towels in with his laundry to avoid Lillian questioning why they had gone through days of towels in one night. Elle told him everything, even about the nightmares.

"So…she's like you now?"

Elle shrugged. "I don't really know. I've seen powerful specials mess with nons before so it could be that. If she does have an ability, I don't know why she would randomly focus on a couple of spree killers."

"So you can help her?"

"Damn right I will. Somehow."

"And if she is, then you can help her with that too?"

Elle nodded.

Martin let out a long breath and leaned against the sink. "Wow. What are the odds of this happening now? What do you even call it when one of you…blossoms?"

"There really isn't a set name for it, and if there were it wouldn't be that. Most people if they are going to get powers would have gotten them before her age. Like closer to no longer thinking boys have cooties."

"Yeah, that ship left the harbor for Gretchen a long time ago."

"What is it with your family and that nautical theme? Were you conceived in the navy or something?"

He shrugged. "What should I do now?"

"Go back to your cartoon porn," she said. "I have to make some calls. If there is anything else I'll let you know."

"Oh. Tell her I love her, okay?" He turned to go but she stopped him.

"Martin, if that super liberal state ever exists, you'll make a good, you know."

"Thanks. You'll make a good one too."

Elle found Gretchen still on the bed, wrapped in blankets until just her head and one arm peeked out. She held her phone and she was reading a webpage on it.

"It all matches," she said. "The murders and my nightmares. Those people…I saw them die. It's true, I'm a special."

"We don't know what's true yet," Elle said. "I'm going to contact Claire and Mr. Wizard next. They'll know what to do."

"It means I have a place in another parade."

"We don't know that yet. And if you do, then you have two people that can walk next to you there." Elle sat on the bed. "Who is Stephen? You were talking about him when I brought you back."

'I don't know. It's just a name I've heard in my nightmares sometimes. And…on the airplane I thought I heard someone with that name speaking to me. I swear, I thought it was just stress."

Fuck me, Elle thought but said, "It's fine. We'll get it figured out. You should rest. I know it feels like you were asleep, but you really weren't." She licked dry lips before continuing. "If you are a special then you just used your ability without any control for a very long time. That can be taxing on your system if you aren't used to it."

Gretchen nodded and switched off the phone. "I'm afraid to go to sleep," she said. "I didn't want to see that stuff before, but now that I know it is real. That those people were really calling for help while I watched and…I just can't."

Elle rubbed her back, helpless to do more.

"Is there anyone left who can make me not have abilities?" Gretchen asked.

"Gretchen—"

"I know it's horrible to ask, but Claire told me her grandfather could and if the rest of my life is going to be seeing people die then I would rather be normal. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry." Elle tucked now dry hair behind her ear. "I went to him too once when I lost control."

Gretchen's eyes were wet. "Really?"

"Yeah. Not a happy memory. He's gone but if it comes to it—and I'm not saying that it will—then we will figure something out for you. Maybe a mental block or something." Elle stood. "In the meantime, I want you to take these." She dug in her bag until she found the same kind of pills she took on the plane.

"I don't know. I feel wiggy enough."

"You won't dream," Elle said, holding out a couple of pills. "A few hours of peace will do your body some good."

Gretchen finally nodded and accepted them. Elle left and returned with a glass of water. She sat cross-legged on the bed and watched as Gretchen swallowed the pills and then downed the entire glass.

"Would you like more?"

"No. It just feels like I've been running a marathon. Is that what it's supposed to feel like when a special…develops? What is it called?"

"Committee is still out. It feels differently for everyone. Some barely even notice it while others go nuclear."

Gretchen smiled. "Lucky me."

"Lay back." Gretchen did as told and Elle curled up behind her. She stayed like that, listening to her girlfriend's breathing becoming even, until she was sure Gretchen had fallen asleep.

Elle stared at the wall over Gretchen's shoulder for a long while. She thought about all the young specials she had rounded up as an agent and those that she tried to help now. It didn't seem right that Gretchen would just suddenly become one.

And if she wasn't that meant someone was doing this to her.

Someone that Elle was going to make sure became very dead very soon.

She extracted herself from the bed and picked up her phone. Padding to the other end of the room, she dialed Claire. If it went to voice mail again she swore she would make good on that joke of taking Martin and the minivan to physically bring her down to Texas.

It was after midnight in New York, but Claire answered on the fourth ring. "Hello, Elle. I'm—"

"Turn the news on, Cheerleader," Elle said without preamble. "We've got a huge problem."

**...**

**...**

Claire strolled back into the living room and pointed to the series of tvs on the wall with her free hand. "Turn those up," she said. "Find as many newscasts as you can."

She was in a house filled with former resistance fighters. Not a single person paused at the odd request. Instantly they jumped into action, AAT paperwork forgotten. Molly and West changed the tvs to multiple broadcasts talking over each other, while Micah turned every computer in the room to major news websites.

Claire switched her phone over to video chat. "What are we looking for?" she asked.

"I—" Elle did a double take when the picture came up. "Why are you dressed like a sexy cat burglar?"

"Just a cat burglar," West spoke up. "The sexy just happens."

Claire closed her eyes and said a silent 'gee, thanks'.

"And what the hell is Flyboy doing there? Micah?! What is going on?"

West waved at the screen. "It's the Company Bitch. So nice to see you again."

"Stop it both of you." Micah peered over Claire's shoulder. "What is going on?"

"Well, as long as the whole gang is there I'll catch you up on my day," Elle said. "Gretchen's dad is a jerk, her mom's a little hot, her brother is a cool bro, and oh yeah Gretchen might be one of us now.

"I found her in the middle of a precog episode in the bathroom. Apparently she's been dreaming about a pair of serial killers and or some guy named Stephen—that part wasn't really clear. So how's your day been? Catch a show while in town?"

Claire sat down hard. Micah had to catch the phone to keep it from slipping out of her hands.

"Agent Bishop," he said, "what can you tell me about the killers?"

"Just what I read in the newspaper."

"Do it." While she provided what details she could remember, he entered the information into his tablet. After a few minutes news video appeared on the tv screens. He held the phone up so Elle could see too.

The reports started in Nevada with several, at the time, unrelated break ins. At first police suspected the homeowners missing but then discovered the strange dust deposits at the scenes of the crime were the owners.

"You guys ever heard of an ability like that?" West asked.

"Yeah." Elle's voice was tiny coming from the phone's speaker. "A while back the Company dealt with a rogue special that could do that with his touch. Can't be the same one though. He's dead."

"You sure?" Claire asked. "Reports have been wrong before." And people have come back from the dead, she left unspoken.

"This one I'm sure about. You can ask Noah too but he'll confirm it."

Micah switched to another news stream, this one from later on in the spree. The killers moved from to Nevada to Arizona and then started moving east across New Mexico.

"They're going to Texas," Molly said.

"They're already there," Micah said. "This report is days old."

The names and photos of the victims appeared on the screen.

"Guys," Elle said, "does anyone else notice something about them?"

"All couples?" West said. "Middle age."

Micah shook his head. "I recognize the names but not the faces from my Company files."

"Because they are deep cover identities," Elle said. "We used to keep several on active status in case we ever had to hide somebody long term. Keep a house and some bank accounts in one or two names, come up with some reason why they'd be out of the country for a while so the neighbors won't look for them, and then just slip an agent into place without muss or fuss when needed.

"I did it myself a couple of times. Pretty easy to lay low when you don't have a lot of resources available."

Micah nodded at the wisdom of the strategy. "One fake id and you have an instant life. Like a rental car for an entire identity. When it is time to burn it, the id just gets a U-Haul and moves to a new town and keeps the same cover. No one is the wiser."

"Wait a minute." West sat forward. "You mean those are _all_ Company agents?"  
"No," Elle and Micah said at the same time.

"I don't recognize any of them," she said.

"That many agents couldn't go missing without raising a lot of flags in several different agencies," he said.

"Then I don't understand…"

Claire looked at the route they had taken, from west to east moving in an odd zigzag pattern. The towns familiar and fresh in her memory. "They are cross referencing," she said and pointed to the stack of AAT data. "That is what the Church of the Nephilim is doing. They're buying up any Company information they can find and looking for old cover identities. The killers are working for them." She thought about all those travel expenditures from missionaries in the south.

"Why? The Company is gone. Those ids would have been mothballed a long time ago."

"Not unless they were forgotten about." Micah started typing furiously at his tablet. "Or were deep, deep cover to protect something."

"Or someone," Molly finished. "There was a Project Stephen in the church's files, the same name Gretchen is dreaming about."

Micah started bringing data over from his cloud drive and throwing it up on one of the tv screens. "I'm already on it, Mol."

"So what does any of this have to do with Gretchen?" Claire wondered. "She isn't part of the Church of the Nephilim and has never been involved with a Company operation. Are you sure she was precog? Maybe someone was reaching out to her?"  
"I thought the same thing, Cheerleader. I've never once gotten the sense that she was anything but regular red blooded Homo-sapien."

"Neither have I." Claire's voice was quiet.

Molly put her hand on Claire's shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"Can I talk to her please?"

On the tiny screen, Elle shook her head. "I gave her some pills to help her sleep. Hopefully she'll be down for a few hours. I figured we could use the time to think."

"I promise we'll figure out what the connection is," Micah said. "And what the church wants down there. Maybe if we figure all that out it will give us some answers for Miss Berg."

"Thank you."

Claire repeated the sentiment.

"Okay, everyone, nothing is more important than this. She's family." Micah pointed at the screen still showing the route taken by the killers. "They've already gotten a head start on us. We need to figure out what cold covers the Company had left in Texas and the surrounding areas. And we need to figure out how this Project Stephen fits into it all.

"West and Molly, take the Company database and cross search those names. Maybe we'll get lucky and find a list of open identities we can then look for matches in the Texas phone book.

"I'll take Stephen. Even if it is just stories of stories, I'll find them."

West nodded and moved to get started. "We're going to need something stronger than tea."

"I'll put a pot of coffee on," Molly said.

"What do you want me to do?" Claire asked.

Micah cleared his tablet and nodded his head toward her phone. "Nothing. Just go be with them. I got this."

"I want to help."

"Me too," Elle spoke up.

Micah gave them both a look. "Half of this is going to be online and the other half is going to be in my head. I'll be faster on my own, really."

"The second you find something—" Elle said.

"I'll let you two know immediately."

Claire held the phone to her chest with the screen facing out. "I'll also need to get down to Texas as soon as possible."

"I'll fly you myself if I have to," West said.

"Or you could take a plane," Elle said. "Those are fast too."

"Whichever you want," Micah said. "Go on now. I'll let you know when we have something."

Claire carried her phone from the living room and started up the stairs. "How are you doing?" she asked Elle.

"Oh, I'm fucking perfect. It's a merry fucking Hanukkah all around over here. I did refrain from blasting Mr. Berg into next Tuesday so my self restraint is getting better."

"Is it that bad?"

"Eh, the brother is okay."

"How is Gretchen holding up through it all?"

"Probably better than I would in her place. Strong girl."

"Yeah, she is. I'll be there soon."

"Better be."

In her room, Claire unlaced her boots and kicked them off. Not bothering to change, she just stripped down and climbed into bed. The room was dark save for the glow from her phone. On the other side of the screen the world tilted and jostled around as Elle got into bed too.

She placed the phone on the pillow beside Gretchen and turned it to face her. Elle then wrapped her arms around Gretchen's waist and spooned her from behind. The two specials shared a worried glance over her head from a thousand miles away.

It was a long time before either fell asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

The phone ringing woke her at dawn.

Elle blinked at the phone for a moment. Her body was stiff as she untangled herself from Gretchen. The video call with Claire must have shut itself off sometime during the night.

Gretchen started to rouse.

"It's all right," Elle slurred. "I got it."

The caller id was blank and showed unknown number, but she had a good idea even in her half bleary state who it was.

"Yeah, Micah?"

"You need to get to Muriel Junction, Texas," he said. "Right now."

"Why?"

Gretchen rolled over, the bundle of sheets falling from her shoulders. "Speakerphone," she said.

Elle switched it to speaker. "You're on with Gretchen too. What's in Muriel Junction?"

"Stephen," he said. "It's an actual person. A physically disabled but very powerful special that the Company hid away. I need you to get to them before the people Miss Berg has been seeing in her dreams do. If they get there first it will be disastrous."

"What is he like a time traveler or something?"

"No." Micah paused for a second. "Stephen is a reality bender."

Elle and Gretchen exchanged surprised glances. "You mean like an illusion ability?"

"No. Like he thinks something and it happens. We have to keep him safe."

Gretchen held up a hand. "Whoa, we have those? Since when can people do that?"

"He is the only one ever documented. Monroe theorized it was somehow connected to the ability to manipulate time and space, but without any cognitive understanding of either. Agents wanted to put him down but he was a physicist's dream. This guy is severely handicapped but he is a walking Higgs boson particle."

Elle climbed out of bed. "I don't even know what that means."

"I do," Gretchen said.

"It means it is very bad for him to fall in the hands of someone that would want to abuse his ability," Micah explained in a rush. "Are you on the way yet?"  
"I'm not even wearing pants yet! Where is this Muriel place?" Elle unzipped a bag and began pulling out clothes.

"It's—"

"It's a small town about three hours away at highway speeds," Micah said. "I'll send the GPS coordinates to your phone. I would suggest you drive faster than highway speeds."

"We haven't even rented a car yet." Elle stepped into her shoes. "Am I supposed to take the Berg family minivan on a Company mission?"

"My brother has his bike," Gretchen said.

"A bicycle? That won't work."

Elle looked at the phone. "A motorcycle, geek boy. And do you mind? This is private family talk. You want me to steal your brother's bike?"

"No, he'll take you and watch your back."

Elle shook her head. "This could be dangerous and I'm not placing any other Bergs in harm's way. Plus, I can't bring a third person back on a motorcycle sans a sidecar."

"I'll secure some sort of transport for Stephen by the time you get to him," Micah said. "You can't bring him back there anyway. He's too dangerous."

"He's right," Gretchen said. "What we would tell my parents? Can't exactly introduce him as Cousin Steve."

"What are you thinking, Micah?"

"I'm not sure yet. Hopefully Arthur Petrelli had some contingencies in Pinehearst that didn't cross paths with the Company's. If so, I can stash him away and the church won't be able to find him."

Elle sighed. "What about you? Martin should look after you."

"I'll be fine by myself for a few hours. If I start feeling wiggy again I'll just say I'm still jetlagged and come up here."

"If West flies her," Micah said, "Claire can be there before you get back."

"Fine. But don't leave the house."

Elle grabbed her coat and then the phone. "I'm on my way. I'll let you know once I'm close."

"Be careful, Agent Bishop."

"Yeah, yeah." She clicked the disconnect button and then kissed Gretchen. "I mean it, don't leave the house. Until we know more about what is happening to you, I don't want you out around anti special yahoos."  
Gretchen mock saluted. "Yes, ma'am. Now go save the day."

Martin was not a morning person by the look of him. He opened the door and blinked several times before seeming to even recognize her. "Mahuh?"

"I need you to take me to a town called Muriel Junction on important special business," she said. "Right now. It can't wait."

"You need…what now?"

"Put a shirt on, big man, and let's take that bike of yours on a road trip to go rescue the antichrist."

"Oo…kay."

Fifteen minutes later she was riding behind him on his 86 Shadow down the tranquil suburb streets. She shouted directions to him. "And don't be easy on the gas," she said. "I know a guy that can fix speeding tickets."

"Cool."

The helmet he gave her was a little too big and her hair flapped out around the edges.

"You know, Elle," he said. "I might not have met Claire Bennet yet, but you are hands down my favorite."

"John-boy, you aren't the first to say that."

...

...

Claire found the town house dark but still active when she woke and came down stairs. Micah sat at a laptop and judging by the circles under his eyes hadn't gotten any sleep yet. There was no sign of West and Molly lay curled up asleep on the couch with a blanket over her.

"Anything?" Claire whispered and sat next to him.

Micah nodded. "A little on Project Stephen. It's the name of a mentally handicapped special the Company hid away about twenty years ago."

Claire folded her legs underneath herself. "What about Gretchen?"

"I'm still working on that along with everything else." He swept his arm wide over the stacks of paper on the table. "Elle is on the way to Stephen now and I have to find a place to hide him so the church can't find him. But I still don't even know who they sent after him or what they want with his ability."

"What can he do?"

Micah gave her a broad overview of Stephen's reality bending power and the mission he'd sent Elle on.

"Could he—"Claire took a deep breath as she tried to figure out how to phrase the question—"turn Gretchen into a special? She never showed signs before. And if she's been seeing the church people coming for him maybe she wasn't reaching him, maybe he was reaching her?"

"It might be possible, Claire. I don't know." Micah rubbed bloodshot eyes. "If he can, that certainly could be why the church wants him so badly. I'm sorry but I just don't know yet. I promise you I will figure it out though."

Claire nodded. "Micah, you and I both know how trying to turn someone special normally ends up. If a person isn't built for it…"

Micah closed the laptop. "Don't think like that. We'll fix it."

Claire sat back, fidgeted, and then sat forward again. "Where is West?"

"I sent him out for breakfast. He'll be back soon and you guys can leave for Texas then."

"Thank you. I'm saying that for Elle too since she'll feel it but won't say it."

Micah shrugged. "It is what we do for family."

After a moment Claire pointed to the data from the night before. "Have you gotten anything else out of that?"

"I haven't had time. Travel reports from missionaries took a backseat to a reality bender." His tired smile at the insanity of that statement didn't reach his eyes.

"Mind if I take a look at them?"

"Go ahead. Why?"

Claire began pulling stacks of papers across the table. "Well, I have nothing better to do until my flight arrives. And if I learned one thing from my father when he was in middle management is you can learn amazing things from accounting reports. If I cross reference those towns with the church's financials maybe I can figure out who is after Stephen.

"At the very least I should be able to give you a short list of names to run through the Company's records."

...

...

Muriel Junction turned out to be an intersection, stoplight, and little else.

Elle glanced down at her phone when Martin came to a stop even though the traffic light was green—there was no one around to care. "That way," she said, pointing right. "About a couple of miles down. Should be a house with a fenced off backyard. Micah sent satellite photos so there isn't much more to go on than that."

"Kay." Martin flipped his visor down. "We'll find it."

The bike roared beneath them and they were racing down the street she indicated. Around them were stretches of grassland broken only by the occasional barbed wire fence. The trip here was mostly the same with cows and sometimes goats added to the mix.

It reminded Elle why she hated traveling through rural Texas.

The road had seen better days but Martin navigated the potholes like a champ and she was able to send a text to Micah letting him know she was in town.

"Listen," she said loud enough for him to hear over the engine noise, "when we get there you hang back. I don't know what this Stephen guy is going to be like or if Hazel and Cha-Cha have gotten there yet. I'd kind of like to sleep with your sister again and if you die on my watch it probably isn't going to happen."

The bike swerved a little. "Could have done without the visual," he said. "But you're the boss."

Elle started to see homes at the end of long winding dirt driveways. They were set far enough back from the road to give the occupants plenty of time to see someone coming.

"Can I ask you something about this special, though?"

"Shoot."

"If he is so crazy powerful why do you have to protect him? Can't he just go all X-Men United on anyone that tries to take him?"

"You've heard the phrase don't bring a knife to a gun fight?" Elle asked.

"Yeah."

"Well think of someone with his power as bringing a nuke to a knife fight. He could protect himself, probably if he understands the danger, but a lot of others could get hurt."

"Oh." Martin nodded. "Like Scarlet Witch going all House of M and saying 'no more mutants'?"

"You just called me a mutant and I'm going to ignore that, but yes that's it exactly."

They rode in silence for several moments.

"You know, you never told me what you can do exactly. It seemed rude to ask, but now that we're partners on a case maybe I should know. Are you more of a knife, gun, or nuke?"

"We're not partners." She pointed over his shoulder. "I think that's it."

The single story ranch was out of sight of its nearest neighbor at the end of a long, well worn driveway. Yellow paint with white trim made it look like some sort of cottage out of a kid's coloring book. A swing set stood in the front yard surrounded by large plastic toys a toddler would use. A very high fence closed off the entire back yard and left side of the house. Shades covered every window. Despite the warm outside color, something about it seemed decidedly unwelcoming to Elle.

Martin drove down the driveway and came to a stop directly behind a station wagon parked in front of the house. He dropped the kickstand and turned the engine off.

Elle took off the helmet and handed it back to him. She stretched and looked around. They were the only people visible for miles. As though on cue, her phone rang.

Unknown number again.

She answered it. "Speak to me, Micah."

"I found some instructions written by former Primatech VP Chase," Micah said. "He was the last field agent to work the Stephen Project."

"Great," Elle said. "So calling him up and asking is out of the question." She nodded to Martin and started walking up the path. "What do you have?"

"There will be a caretaker in the house," he said. "One is stationed there at all times."

Elle glanced at the station wagon. "Yeah, I see she has fine taste in American automobiles. What else?"

"When they answer the door you need to say 'the states of our minds are fluid'. It's a code word."

"I figured that part out. Is this protocol still good after all this time? Chase was a dusty desk jockey when I knew him."

"It was telepathically installed in all of Stephen's caretakers," Micah said. "And they also removed any desire to ever work anywhere else." The last part came out rather quiet.

"Of course they did. Hang on a second." She lowered the phone and then knocked on the front door. She let just enough of a charge build between the fingers of her free hand to throw back anything she didn't like on the other side of the door.

An older woman peeked out. She was a little taller than Elle, dressed in a simple dress with an apron around her waist. A string of pearls, Elle thought, and she'd be the grandmother from a 50s sitcom.

"Hello?"

Elle took a deep breath and hoped this was the right house, otherwise she was about to look really stupid. "The states of our minds are fluid," she said.

The woman's face softened and she smiled. "Oh, well come in. We haven't had visitors in so long."

Elle caught Martin's gaze and then followed the woman across the threshold. "I'm in," she said into the phone.

The door closed behind them and the caretaker stood in the foyer, completely oblivious to Elle speaking to someone else.

"You all alone here—?"

"Martha," she supplied. "And yes. Well, Stephen of course. He's such a good boy."

"That's what I hear." Elle looked around. The house was rocking a serious mid 80s theme. Heavy shag carpeting, wood paneling, and outdated furniture. A free standing tv stood in the corner with a Tv Guide, twenty years old, resting on top of it.

"I swear to God, Micah, that if this is the house I die in I will find a way back to haunt you."

"Just find him and sit tight. I have help on the way."

Elle bent her neck to read the bindings of encyclopedias lined up on a bookshelf. Everything was perfectly orderly and dusted. It was like Martha did nothing all day but keep order and clean. She probably did just that. "You watch Stephen all by yourself, Granny Goodness?"

"Oh, heavens no. There is a dear woman that stays with him at night. And his parents naturally."

Elle straightened, on guard. "Parents?"

"Why yes. They're away on business right now—they work for a paper company, I think."

"Been away for a while, have they?"

Martha frowned. "Well, I don't know. Possibly. It does all sort of run together after a while."

"Yeah, I bet. Hey, do you think I could meet Stephen? Maybe have you introduce me so I don't frighten him? Don't want to end up being exploded by mistake."

"Of course. Stephen will be so excited to see you. He hasn't had a friend over in so long."

Elle smiled until it gave way to a grimace.

Granny Goodness led her through the dark house and to a small bedroom. Like the outside of the house the walls were painted bright yellow with white trim. A carpet with designs of game boards woven into it covered the entire room. Save for a toy chest in one corner and a safety bed in the other, the room was empty of furniture. Toys lay scattered about in various stages of destruction. The ceiling, Elle noticed, was panted blue with smiley face clouds.

Sitting in the center of the room, impassive like he was sitting in the heart of the entire universe, was Stephen. He was only a few years out of diapers. A mop of dark curly hair sat on his head and expressionless eyes looked straight ahead. His clothes declared him a lifelong fan of the Cookie Monster.

Elle swallowed and looked at Martha. "This is who you've been watching?"

"Yes. Hullo, Stephen. We have a visitor!"

Stephen didn't seem to notice his caretaker or Elle.

"You've looked after him all this time?"

"He's a good boy."

Elle stepped back and put the phone to her ear. "Micah, he's a kid. _A little kid_."

Stephen glanced up at that, but didn't seem to comprehend what she was saying.

"I told you—"

"You told me the Company put him here back in the Springsteen glory days. He should be the same age as me."

"He is." Micah paused. "He's a reality bender with a mental age that never left two to four years old."

Elle side eyed the kid. "Are you saying he made himself look young because he thinks he is young?"

"Or he just never aged at all because of it. I can't say for sure."

"Oh. And here I thought it was going to be something creepy."

Micah sighed and sounded very tired. "Just be friendly and don't scare him. He isn't an adult and doesn't mean anyone harm."

"In case you haven't noticed, I don't have a lot of experience with small kids. They are frequently sticky and smelly and I'd rather not be party to that."

"You'll do fine," he said. Then added, "Think of it as good practice. I hear Virginia has become rather opened minded about adoption."

"Oh, that's really funny. Listen to me laugh." She hung up the phone.

Martha stood waiting for her to finish the conversation with a distant but agreeable expression on her face. Elle wondered just how badly the Company had screwed her up and how much this was Stephen's doing. Deciding she probably didn't really want to know, she walked back into the room and knelt in front of the kid.

"Hey there…Buddy Boy. My name is Elle." Aside from a little spit bubble forming on the corner of his lips, Stephen had no opinion to share. "Okay, then. How about we keep things friendly and you don't send me out to the cornfield, huh?"

Elle felt incredibly stupid and out of her league. She had no relationship with children—she didn't even have a normal childhood to draw on for ideas. Meanwhile Martha looked on like a proud parent overseeing a play date.

"Do you know why I'm here, Stephen? You asked for help, or at least some part of you did. And you used my girlfriend to do it—gotta say, not cool, man. What do you say that we make a deal? You leave her out of this and I take over the protection detail?"

Stephen held out his hand palm up and Elle looked at each tiny digit before placing her hand over his. She hoped that this was his way of saying bargain struck—and then she wondered if he or at least some part of him could tell she was a special like him.

"They are coming," a voice whispered next to her ear.

Elle shivered involuntarily. It wasn't as jarring or intrusive as a telepath speaking in her mind but it wasn't pleasant either. She felt some of Gretchen's pain—enough of that and she'd have a headache too.

Her phone rang.

"Yeah?"

"I see a car approaching your location on satellite," Micah said. "We don't have any time left. Get them out of there right now."

Elle stood and turned to Martha. "We need to use your car. It's very important."

"Oh, I don't think so. Stephen's parents will be upset if I'm not here when they get back."

"Micah?"

"I'm looking now."

Elle glanced down. If Stephen had any suggestions he wasn't sharing them. She knew better than to just try and take him. Best case he would only fuss; worst and most likely was Martha would go mama bear and try and kill her. The Company didn't waste time and resources on her just so she could dust a two decade old TV Guide issue.

Another lifetime—literally—ago Elle would have just killed Granny first and stolen him for his own good. She didn't care to do that these days plus if Stephen was upset over losing his caretaker he could make life pretty bad for her.

Still though she began building a charge just in case.

"Try nine-one-one," Micah said.

"You want me to call the police? What are they going to do? Is Walker Texas Ranger going to show up and noodle kick the bad guys into submission?"

"No. That's the code. Agent Chase programmed her to respond to another identified agent using nine-one-one as an emergency code. She'll understand a threat to her charge and defer to your authority."

"I knew I liked that guy for a reason," Elle muttered and then louder said, "Martha. It is nine-one-one time. You know what that means?"

The old woman didn't even take time to blink. Her demeanor changed immediately. "We have to get Stephen out of here. You take my car."

"I got a ride but it can't take all of us."

Martha walked purposefully to the closet and opened doors with red handprints painted on them. Inside was a packed duffel bag—a Company standard go bag, Elle assumed.

"Hurry," that voice said and Elle's cheek twitched.

A little hand found hers again and wrapped around her fingers tight. Martha looked at them and nodded approvingly. "Let's go. Quickly now."

"You getting this, Micah?"

"I'm with you."

Outside, back in the twenty first century, Martin leaned against the station wagon kicking his heels in the dirt out of boredom. He did a double take in surprise at the two people with Elle, as though trying to decide which was the most likely candidate to be the highly dangerous special she had talked about.

Over his shoulder she saw a cloud of dust getting closer as an older model sedan came up the driveway.

"Damn," Elle said. "Granny, you got another way out of here?"

"Around the back a dirt trail that leads down to the main road after about eight miles."

"That'll work. We'll follow you."

Martin hurried to the bike and began getting ready to leave without waiting for orders. Maybe he had the makings of a good partner after all, Elle thought.

"It would be rude to not see what they needed," the old woman said. "What if they are lost?"

"Crap. Stephen is in danger and you need to do your job."

Martha blinked at her. "You're a friend of Stephen's parents. You are taking him to see them, right?"

Elle understood then. She didn't care for it, but she understood. "Change of plans, Martin. Take the lady's keys. I'm going to need the bike."

"What? Why?" He looked over his shoulder and at the car getting closer.

"She's going to buy us time." Elle walked to him and gripped one of the handlebars. "I need you to take the kid and the station wagon. I'll be right behind you on the bike."

"If those are the people you told me about, then she's—"

"Yeah, I know. She's a Company asset just like me. We don't have time to debate this."

Martin looked incredulous for a moment and then got off the bike and took the keys from Martha. "What about you? Why don't you take the car?"

"Because if she doesn't slow them down then I'll have to buy time for _you_."

"Oh, shit. Don't do that to me. Don't make me have to have that conversation with Gretchen."

"Won't have to." Elle realized she probably should have said that with more conviction. "Just drive and don't look back until we're clear. I'll be right behind you."

Martha got Stephen in the backseat and smiled at him. "Be a good boy. I'll see you soon."

Elle's skin crawled again but there was no voice in her ear this time. The command wasn't for her.

Martha stood and blank faced reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a Glock semi-automatic.

If Martin wasn't freaked out before he certainly was now. He fumbled twice to get the key in the ignition and finally got the engine to turn over. Elle looked down and realized she still held her phone with Micah on the other end of the line.

"Here," she said and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. "Mr. Wizard will guide you if you get lost. Now go!"

She didn't have to tell him twice; Martin floored the gas. The station wagon shot around the side of the house leaving behind a cloud of dirt.

Elle turned to Martha. "You sure you're good with this?" she asked.

"Of course I am, dear. We are polite in these parts, don't you know." She chambered a round and started walking.

Elle didn't bother with Martin's helmet and kick started the bike. "Bless your heart, Martha," she said and took off.

In the side mirror, Elle saw her walking toward the oncoming car. Her last sight of Martha just before rounding the side of the house, was of her raising the gun and firing off rounds.

...

...

"Faster," Light said as soon as he caught sight of the people standing outside the house.

The house was deep set from the road, giving the occupants plenty of time to see them coming. He cursed the Company for that. And the people standing outside. The Company was dead and gone; this place should only have one occupant.

It occurred to him that perhaps he had read Selzar wrong. Maybe the former agent had sent them on a snipe hunt ending at an ex in-law's house or something suitably comical.

Then the cars outside the house took off fast and disappeared around the back. It was the right house and somehow the Company had managed to get someone there ahead of them.

Satan and his tricks never failed to amaze Light at their audacity. This was God's Will and Light was His mighty hand. Nothing would stop them.

"After that car," he said. "Don't slow."

An old woman stepped in front of their path and moved forward.

"I will not," Salt said and the engine roared as they gained speed.

Light was glad his window was rolled up; the front end was about to be covered in old lady splat. He smiled as his ability tickled underneath his skin.

Seconds away from splat, the lady raised her arm and Light saw flashes. At first he thought she was a special and was using an ability. Too much time away from nons because when the windscreen cracked and holes appeared he realized she was shooting a gun at them.

Light ducked and pulled his body in close to the door. The shots were coming in from the center of the screen and working toward the driver side.

Beside him Salt gave a huff and jerked the wheel to the side. They swerved to the left as the front bumper clipped the old woman. She didn't splat but instead exploded in a cloud of dust. The gun clattered across the hood before dropping over the side.

Salt corrected the car without slowing. His pallor was never great but looked even worse.

Light looked over at his large friend. He drove one handed and kept the other firmly against his side. Blood seeped past his fingers.

Light opened his mouth to speak, to affirm that they made it past the crazy bitch, but then lightning struck.

Literally.

Sparks flew from their backend where it hit. The car went wild and there was nothing Salt could do to stop it. They were going too fast. The world spun beyond the ruined windscreen. Somehow they ended up traveling the wrong way and slammed through the wooden fence.

Light shot forward when the car met the house and they came to a sudden stop. Satan has wrath too, he thought before blacking out.

...

...

Elle didn't stay to watch Martha face the on coming car. She revved the Shadow's engine and took off toward that path back to pavement. Up ahead she could see the station wagon bouncing and swerving as it tried to manage off road conditions.

While Martin went straight Elle angled to the right, circling wide on the property. The ground was soft and yielding underneath the heavy bike but it handled the terrain like a champ. She opened up the throttle to gain distance.

It only took seconds but the pursuing car came around the house. If Martha was able to do anything, it wasn't enough.

Elle downshifted and dropped her foot. The backend fishtailed out like it was a dirt bike and sot shot up around her.

She saw two people in the car as it passed. They didn't see her. Raising her hand, Elle took careful aim.

Just like sinking a three pointer.

Her ability burned through the air and connected her hand to the rear of the sedan.

Sparks flew everywhere and the back bumper disconnected completely from the car. The force was enough to bounce the rear wheels into the air.

This the driver couldn't recover from. The momentum carried it around and the car smashed into the side of the house.

Elle didn't stay to see more. She kicked the bike into gear and took off after Martin and Stephen.

...

...

Light woke to a sharp pain in his shoulder and arm. Pushing back from the dashboard, he saw the inside of a house. The car was buried backseat deep in their target's home. And the target was long gone.

He hissed and flexed his fingers and toes. Nothing was broken, just sore. Beside him Salt was unconscious and still bleeding from his side.

Light reached across the large special and pulled the boot release. The passenger side door took some effort to get open and Light stumbled out into what once was a playroom. Rolling his neck and listening to it pop, he walked to the rear of the car and opened the boot lid.

Inside were their travel bags, over packed with clothes and souvenirs taken from those that had been gracious enough to host them. Both the willing and unwilling.

Light fumbled with a side pocket and pulled out an old cell phone. He dialed the only number programmed into its memory.

"We have an issue," he said. "I need local backup to clean up some Company vermin."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Martin peeled out onto the paved road going faster than forty miles an hour. Elle had caught up and kept pace with him on the dirt path and now gave one last look to make sure they weren't followed. Satisfied that they'd lost the pursuers, she gunned the throttle and swung around him. She tapped the brakes to send a message.

Fortunately, Martin understood and slowed to below the speed limit.

There were so many things she couldn't explain to the police; a traffic stop was the last thing she needed.

They drove for several miles before passing a marker sign that had a town name on it she recognized from the drive in. It led them back to the highway and the way back to Austin.

Elle thought as she drove, trying to figure out how she was going to cover this without involving Gretchen's parents. A fresh stab of worry went through her. What if all the excitement with Stephen caused another attack that Lillian and Howard witnessed in full color? She doubted they would be very understanding if they thought Gretchen had suddenly turned special.

It was so much simpler when she was a lone agent, Elle thought. She glanced in the side mirror and saw Martin grim faced and determined behind the wheel of the wagon. He was a kid that up until a few hours ago thought the most troubling thing in life was someone finding his anime porn collection. And how he was helping her run a Company mission because she was family to him.

To hell with simplicity.

Just outside of Austin, Martin flashed the headlights to get her attention. She pulled off the highway into a rest area. There were only three other cars in the stop and Elle directed the bike as far away from them as she could get without looking suspicious. The station wagon's worn brakes screeched when he pulled up behind her.

Elle hit the kickstand and killed the engine.

Martin popped the driver side door and climbed out. He ran his hands back through his hair and looked off at the road. "That old lady?"

Elle shook her head. "Didn't make it."

"Jeez."

"Listen, if you need to freak out now is the time to do it. We're clear and safe for the time being."

He nodded but said, "I'll be fine. Your phone wants to talk to you. He's been on this whole time."

Elle walked around the wagon and leaned in the passenger window. She grabbed the phone and looked over the seat at their charge. Stephen still wore his seatbelt and looked out the window at the rest stop, seeing who knew what in his head.

She stepped away and put the phone to her ear. "Yeah?"

"It's me," Micah said.

"I figured. Got some place I can stash this kid?"

"Yes, I do. I rented several rooms at a local hotel and have another special coming in that can take him from you. Thank you very much, Agent Bishop."  
"Don't thank me yet. Where is the drop off point?"

He gave her directions to an old shopping center several miles away.

"Okay, got it. I'll let you know when I'm back with Doe Eyes and if there is any change."

Elle hung up and dropped the phone in her pocket. She walked back to Martin and said, "Stephen has his marching orders. I appreciate what you did back there. I don't do gratitude very well so understand the importance of me saying that.

"Why don't you take the bike on home and I'll handle Little Man Tate."

He shook his head and seemed to steel himself. "Nah. Company partners don't leave each other until the mission is done."

"Yes, we are like Navy Seals that way. Let's go—I have the directions. Just follow me."

They cut through the outskirts of the city proper and headed into an industrial area. There were only a few cars on the back roads and none that seemed out of place to Elle. She kept an eye on the mirrors to make sure Martin hadn't picked up a tail.

The meet up point was an abandoned plaza. One large store, its former name scraped off the front, and several outlet stores formed a circle around a sizable parking lot. The outlets provided good cover from passers by on the street.

Elle did a quick pass on the bike and then led Martin to a secluded parking spot and killed the engine. There was no sign of another car or any other people. She didn't like that. If Micah's second team ran into trouble too…

Martin got out. "Are we early?"

It really wasn't a good sign if the probie Company agent even thought something was off. "I don't know."

Elle began scanning the plaza to determine which store would not only provide the best cover and vantage point, but also was the most defendable.

"Or," Martin said, sounding awed, "we're right on time."

Elle turned but didn't see anyone coming in the entrance. No sign of activity at all except for…oh crap.

"Oh crap," she said.

The quickly approaching shape in the sky resolved itself into two individuals. West swung low past the old retail outlet and swept across the parking lot. Claire hung on to him; her arms around his neck and leg hooked around his.

The air around Elle bristled with power.

They touched down several paces away from the wagon and Claire did a short hop step to regain her balance. She smiled. "Hello."

"Hey, Cheerleader." Elle walked to her and kissed her, a little deeper than she might have without the audience. When they broke, she kept her arms around Claire and looked over her shoulder at West. Her expression clear: I won. "Flyboy."

"Bitch." His face softened, like he was only half serious. "Merry Christmas."

"Happy Christmas to you too." The skin around her eyes tightened. "So you're flying economy these days?"

"Micah didn't have anyone else close by and he could get here fast. Plus, I was going his way."

"I didn't think you went his way for some time."

Martin gaped at them. "Wow," he said. "You're her. Like, Time magazine cover Claire Bennet."

"That's me." Claire disengaged herself from Elle. "That was a while ago, though. I just go by Claire Bennet now."

Elle stepped to the side and kept her arm around Claire, her hand possessively on her hip. "Meet Martin Berg, the second best out of the Berg clan."

"Nice to finally meet you in person." Claire shook his hand. "Thank you for helping with this. I know it isn't what you signed up for."

"Anything for big sis's…girlfriends." He seemed to consider the word choice. "I just can't believe we have a celebrity in the family now."

"Very minor."

"I don't know, in the room where the Family of Specials group meets on campus we have a picture of you. All the specials think you're great."

Elle waved him down. "Okay, big man, she'll autograph your tits later. Work still to be done here." She started back toward the wagon.

West cleared his throat. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"

"Oh yeah." Elle retrieved the keys from the wagon and started back. "Martin, this is West. He's the ex."

"He's a friend," Claire corrected.

"Ex. Friend." Elle grinned. She dropped the keys in his hand. "Congrats, Flyboy. You're a dad and I got you a new family friendly ride."

West looked at Stephen still staring blankly out the window. "Okay, thanks. Anything I should know about him?"

Elle shrugged. "Cuban Pete has been calm so far but none of us has really had time to read the dossier. If you start to feel yourself getting…as Gretchen put it…wiggy you might want to gain some distance and call for backup."

"Uh-huh. That backup will be you, right?"

Elle nodded. "Yeah. Micah too but yeah. I'm in this even if Gretchen isn't any longer."

"Any word on that?" Claire asked. "Have you heard anything?"

"Nothing yet," Martin said. "It has been a little busy though to call."

"You ran into trouble?"

Elle shot Martin a look. "Just the usual. We got away. Nothing to worry about."

Claire seemed to want to say more but didn't. Elle recognized the signs; they would be talking about that ad nauseam later.

West brought Elle up to speed on where Micah had put them up. He'd made reservations at several hotels, renting multiple rooms at each, under different identities. They would have plenty of space to themselves just in case Stephen proved dangerous.

It went unspoken, but Elle also knew that was to minimize collateral damage if the church found them. She hadn't wanted to admit it, even to herself, but West was also well suited to get Stephen away quickly if he had to.

"Anyone else feel like they're being watched?" Martin asked.

"It's just nerves," Elle said, scanning the plaza again. She did, though. "But why don't we get this party moving?"

"Good idea," West said.

They all started walking back to the cars. It took some figuring but they finally decided to drive back to the Bergs, drop Claire and Elle off, and Martin agreed to follow to the hotel to make sure he didn't get lost. The last bit was unnecessary with a living breathing GPS just a phone call away, but it would let Martin unwind on his bike before coming home for dinner.

Decompression was important after a mission like he'd just been on. Elle hoped she would get the chance to decompress too.

...

...

The help arrived in a nondescript van, thankfully free of any identifiers linking it to the church. Seeing them approach, Light backed away from his partner and let the new team take over treatment. Salt's wound wasn't life threatening, that Light could tell anyway, but had bled quite a bit all over the car's interior.

Trusting his contacts to send the proper people, Light watched as four climbed out of the van. All of them specials.

Waving toward the obvious healers, Light began exploring the demolished playroom. There were toys and game pieces for at least eight different board games among the rubble crunching under his shoes. The house was a loss, fortunately the lack of close neighbors meant they did not have to hurry to leave the scene.

Light's sense of urgency came from personal reasons rather than practical.

He sorted through finger paintings on heavy construction paper, several showcasing a stick figure with blonde hair and blue arcs of power coming from its hands.

He stared at that for several moments. If there were any paintings of Salt and himself they were lost in the destruction.

"You." Light gestured to a slim woman with sandy colored hair still standing close to the van. "Are you the one I asked for?"

"Yes, Elder. I've already started scanning frequencies on the way here. There aren't many signals to sort through from cell towers this far out—I should be able to trace them for you."

Light smiled a genuine heartfelt smile. God had indeed blessed him with such wonderful acolytes.

...

...

"You have a lovely home, Lillian," Claire said in her best cheer captain voice.

Elle silently marveled that Claire seemed to work the diplomatic end of meeting the parents much better than she had. Howard chatted with her about holiday travel and crowds. Instinctively knowing better than to give actual details about how she got to Texas, Claire spun one white lie after another about coming in from New York.

Jeez, Elle thought. No wonder she was the unofficial ambassador to their kind.

The Bergs didn't give the impression they were thrilled the special population had just doubled under their roof, but stayed polite and welcoming.

Elle hoped it had just doubled. Gretchen hadn't met them when West and Martin dropped them off. According to Lillian, Gretchen had come down for breakfast and then gone back upstairs to unpack and shake off a headache.

She hadn't been down since.

Elle didn't like waiting, didn't like that Gretchen could be an uncontrolled special, but bit her tongue and kept up appearances. From the vice like grip on her hand, she could tell Claire was thinking the same thing.

As soon as they could, they made their excuses and headed up to their room. Jetlag was a good excuse and neither of Gretchen's parents really wanted them around enough to question them leaving.

They found the room dark with the curtains drawn, but otherwise in order. Their bags were still packed and stacked next to the closet. Gretchen lay on the bed, fully dressed, and asleep. She looked peaceful and not in the grips of an attack like the night before.

Elle breathed a sigh of partial relief. She would let go of the rest of it when she knew if the attack was from an ability or Stephen. Or both. He was a reality bender after all.

Claire sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb her. "She was probably just worn out from last night," she said.

"Yeah." Elle leaned against the desk, folded one arm across her stomach and rested her chin against her other hand. "It was pretty rough."

Claire glanced at her and then back to Gretchen. The doubt visible on her face as well.

"If she is," Elle said, approaching a subject she'd been thinking about since this first started, "do you think we did it to her?"

"It doesn't work that way."

"Yeah, but what is that thing Suresh was talking about a couple of years back? Exposure Theory, or something like that? That latent specials can be activated by exposure to specials? Maybe it is true."

Claire shook her head. "I don't believe that."

"Well, I started early and I was around specials."

"That's not why."

"But what if it is? I mean, we've done stuff to her, Claire. Concurrently. What if we fired up her DNA or whatever and completely changed her life? Not to mention her family life. Jesus, one of us needs to have a normal family situation."

Claire got up and walked to the desk, leaning in close. Elle wasn't one for invasion of personal space, but she made an exception for this. "I truly don't believe that is what happened. And if our concurrent activities can make someone a special then we have some mad skills.

"If she is a special, then it was always going to happen. And whatever that means for her parents was always going to happen too. The only difference we make is that we'll be there for her to help her along."

A little of the tension left Elle's body. A small part of her hated that the cheerleader could do that to her, work her like playdough. Another part kind of dug it.

"We are pretty good at managing weird situations," Elle said at last. "She could do worse."

Claire leaned against the desk and copied Elle's pose. "She could."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"And maybe she isn't one of us," Elle said. "We don't know for sure yet."

"Very true."

Elle smiled. "If she isn't maybe we could still make that middle class fantasy thing happen. The ship may have docked for her but you never got any kind of lucky in your childhood bedroom so we could just pretend."

Claire hesitated just a second longer than normal. "Nope, never did. Not at all."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

"I told you," Gretchen said, tugging at her sleeve, "that I feel fine."

Elle glanced back and forth between her and Claire who was changing clothes. "No dreams or white eyes?"

"No and not that I know of." She blinked in Elle's direction. "Still brown."

Claire hooked her bra much to Elle's disappointment. "How about the off center feeling? Still feel that?"

Gretchen shook her head. "I'm a little dragged out, but nothing like before. This might actually be stress. I feel like I'm firmly in my own skin."

"Good." Claire pulled her dress on and adjusted the waist. "It's a Hanukkah miracle."

"Or a Village of the Damned reject messing with us."

"Even if it was—"Gretchen reached over and straightened Elle's collar—"it's over now. We helped him and he undid whatever he did to me."

Claire turned to face them. "How do I look?"

"Like a fine Gentile woman. You both do."

The three of them had dressed in their respectable best for the menorah lighting. Gretchen and Claire both wore black dresses with long sleeves. Elle wore black pants with a gray button down shirt. The Jewish tradition book Elle had been reading had two chapters on this night and Gretchen had given them an overview on what would happen.

"Okay. Let's get this simkhe on the road!"

"Elle."

"I know. I'm sorry."

The three of them filed out of the small bedroom—removing the cot would help with floor space but none of them wanted to be the one to try and explain to the Bergs why they didn't need it—and started down the stairs.

"You know," Elle said, "if you were a special I could have suggested some awesome special bars back in Baltimore."

"Well we can still go," Gretchen said. "I'm tri-curious."

Martin spotted them first and jumped to his feet. Like them, he was dressed for the occasion with a button down shirt and suit coat. A tie would have ruined the slacker look though. He shot them a questioning glance.

Gretchen gave him a subtle double thumbs up and he let out a long breath.

The living room was dimly lit and welcoming. A fire in the fireplace provided much of the light, as did several candles in the foyer. A lovely smell of dinner came from the kitchen—Lillian must have been to the deli again for homecooking.

Howard peered out from the den and joined them. "Hey, baby girl." He hugged Gretchen and kissed her head. "Feeling better?"

"I am, daddy, thank you. Much better."

Elle stared at them for a second. Visions of her father dancing in her head. She wondered what Bob Bishop would think of all this, of his little girl at a candle lighting ceremony with her two girlfriends. The only thing he and Howard Berg would probably agree on is how much they disapproved of each other.

Lillian came into the living room from the kitchen. "Are we ready?" she asked. "It's just about dark out."

The family menorah was on a small table next to a window facing the street. Elle and Claire fell a step behind the entire family as everyone gathered near it.

Howard moved to begin, but Martin spoke first. "I'd just like to say how happy I am that big sis decided to come back this year." He easily looked over Gretchen's head. "And brought her awesome extended family with too."

The corner of Elle's mouth twitched more at the shadow that flickered across Howard's face rather than the sentiment.

"And here is to many more," Claire said, also looking at Gretchen's father. Elle fell just a little deeper in love with her for that subtle dig. Point for the cheer captain.

Lillian placed the first candle in the rightmost position of the menorah and picked up the Shamash. Obviously familiar with the family tradition, Martin leaned forward and took hold of it, as did Gretchen. Elle and Claire wisely hung back.

Howard struck a long match and said, "Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech HaOlam, asher kidshanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu l'hadlik ner shel Hanukkah.

"Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech HaOlam, she'asah nisim l'avoteinu, b'yamim haheim bazman hazeh.

"Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech HaOlam, shehekheyanu, v'kiyamanu vehegianu lazman hazeh."

He touched the lit end to the Shamash, snuffed the match, and then also placed his hand on the candle. Together the family lit the first Hanukkah candle.

Lillian placed the Shamash in the center of the menorah.

The family took a moment to enjoy the sight. Reflected in the windowpane, Elle could see both the menorah and Gretchen's face. Her eyes were closed and her lips moving slightly. She was praying, Elle realized. Wow.

Religion wasn't really a thing for the three of them. She knew Gretchen prayed sometimes but never really saw it like this. It made her feel…she didn't really know how.

Claire's fingers found hers and wrapped around them, squeezing slightly. She understood and that was good enough.

The moment was broken a minute later by a knock on the door.

Martin started for the foyer, but Gretchen stopped him. "I got it."

Not really paying attention, Elle kept her fingers locked with Claire and began leading her back to the dining room. At least tonight's gathering wouldn't be as awkward as the previous evening. Having backup was always best.

"Forgive the intrusion," a new, accented, voice said. "But the light just looked so warm and inviting. Plus, I do love a religious ceremony."

Warning bells went off in Elle's head. She spun and saw a man she didn't recognize standing next to Gretchen in the doorway. He had one hand poised near Gretchen's arm but didn't touch her. It took Elle only a second to see him as a special and a second after that to look at his blue eyes and feel the way the air around him charged to know what he could do.

Gretchen stood ramrod straight next to him, doubtlessly aware of what he could do as well.

Power raised through Elle but she held back; there wasn't a clear shot between her and the newcomer.

"Who are you?" Howard asked, coming forward. "What do you want?"

Blue white power jumped from the special and caught Howard across the face. The force of the blow was enough to knock him back and leave a red burn behind. Lillian screamed and ran to him.

"I want you all to sit down," he said and then made eye contact with Elle. "Not you though."

Two others followed in his wake through the still open front door. A slim woman and a plain looking man. Both specials. The man had some heft but he wasn't there as muscle. Neither of them were. The first special with his hand next to Gretchen acted as though he was more than capable of subduing everyone in the house.

"Who are you?" Claire asked, managing to keep her voice steadier than Howard's had been.

"I am that I am," the newcomer said.

Martin tried to step in front of Elle but before she could raise a hand to stop it lightning caught him full in the chest. He flew back and crashed into the coffee table, shattering it.

Elle thought he was dead at first but then saw that the power hadn't been at full strength. It singed clothes and skin but didn't burn deep enough to do serious damage. He groaned and rolled onto his side.

"I will not repeat myself," the special said. Then to Lillian added, "If you move I'll kill your husband first." He looked at Howard. "You move and I kill her first. If the boy moves I'll kill him straight up. Understand?"

Both nodded.

He smiled warmly at Claire. "I heard you paid a visit to the New York branch. News does spread fast. I see you already have a faith but perhaps you could be persuaded to see things my way."

"Get away from her," Elle said. "Both of them."

He regarded Gretchen for a moment before turning full attention to Elle. "And yet another note in your Company file…interesting reading by the way."

"I don't really give a crap. Leave them alone."

"Oh, I will. In time. We have business first."

Elle's mind raced as she searched for options. She didn't have a clear shot at any of the church people; Claire was to her right and the Bergs to her left. If she could move a few paces forward the sofa would provide a little cover to the Bergs. Then if Claire could get Gretchen out of the way fast enough…

"There." He pointed to a small end table across from the menorah. It was in the foyer and had a few days worth of mail next to a vase of flowers. "That will do nicely. Be a dear, Claire, and fetch that for me. And if you don't I'll take the skin off your girlfriend's arm." His fingers wrapped around her forearm, ready to pull down.

Claire snapped a panicked look at Elle—her father's training probably showing her the crossfire problem. Elle gave her a nod.

"What do you want?" Moving carefully, Claire walked to the end table.

"Oh, I think you know. Something was stolen from me today and when I tried to get it back my car was hit with a bolt of lightning. My friend was also hurt in that little incident—something I am trying to rise above right now." A blue eyed gaze flicked in Elle's direction. "And what a coincidence that you, someone that recently showed interest in my organization, and a fellow electrical manipulator just happen to be in town. You are going to give it back to me."

They were followed somehow, Elle knew. The church traced her back to the Bergs. But they didn't have Stephen or West.

Claire slid the pack of mail aside and picked up the flowers.

"Take them out. You only need the vase."

Elle noticed a box with the rest of the mail. Heavily sealed with clear shipping tape and addressed to herself care of the Bergs—grandmama's cookies.

"Good. Now take the water and pour it over Bishop's head."

"What?"

His grip on Gretchen's arm visibly tightened; she only kept silently moving her lips. "Do it and I'll let her go."

Elle caught Claire's gaze and said, "It's fine. I can make do without my ability." She dropped her gaze to the box and then back again, willing her to catch the unspoken message.

Claire nodded minutely and started forward.

"Hurry now. Don't want me getting twitchy."

Martin groaned on the floor and his parents watched the scene with expressions of horror and confusion. Elle felt them watching but ignored it and continued trying to come up with a plan. The box was just so far away.

Claire lifted the vase. "I'm sorry."

"Just get it over with." Elle refused to close her eyes but braced herself.

It was an icy cold shock that felt like a dull razor blade dragged over her exposed skin. Her hair was immediately soaked and dripped water down the collar of her shirt. Her ability, already close to the surface, recoiled and Elle cried out.

"Oh, you son of a bitch." Elle worked her jaw and sucked in a deep breath.

His pleasant smile returned. "Now we are on less of an even playing field. And a promise is a promise." He released Gretchen and casually shoved her away.

Not doing much to slow her own fall, Gretchen would have hit the floor if not for Claire getting in her path. Both stumbled to the side, near the mouth of the foyer.

Elle's hand came up on instinct and she had to fight back the urge to fry him where he stood. It was risky and doubtful she'd even manage a blast strong enough to overwhelm his defenses—if she could do it wet there was no promise the Bergs, Gretchen included, would survive as well.

Unperturbed he waited for her to lower her fist. "Wise choice. My wit aside, you may call me Light."

Elle ground her teeth. "I didn't take anything from you. _Light_."

"I think you did. So as I have asked many times and in many homes before this one, where is Stephen?"  
"Stephen? Who is that?"

Lightning flashed across the distance between them and lashed across Elle's body. White hot pain exploded in its wake and she screamed, her knees buckling. "God!"

Light came forward. "Do not dare speak the Lord's name in vain! There are plenty of people in this house I can kill to hurt you. Do not forget that."

Elle pushed to her feet and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Oh I am going to kill you."

"I don't think so. Where is Stephen?"

"Why do you want little Damien? He isn't much of a conversationalist, I can tell you that."

Light laughed and looked back at the two church members still standing by the front door. The slim sandy haired one just shook her head in answer to some unspoken question—Elle didn't see much help out of this situation from either of them.

"Why am I never partnered with someone with a sense of humor?" Light asked the room at large. "At least Salt smiled occasionally."

"I think reality bending might be overrated," Elle said. "Too many comics hyped it up. I didn't see the kid do much beyond creative house painting. What do you say we all just call it a day?"

"I like you," Light said. "It is a shame we're on different sides in this war."

"I'm not on anyone's side. And last time I checked it was a little rough out there for us but no one had declared war yet."

"Maybe not officially but this war has been going on for years now. Born from the arrogance of the first non that thought himself better than a special. You picked your side when you chose to deny God's gift and waste your existence with nons. Behold your weakness." He gestured to the Bergs and Lillian flinched, expecting a burst of lightning that never came.

"You and I should be standing together as living proof of God's power on Earth," he continued. "Instead you throw away your blessing for nothing."

"You never answered her question," Claire said, drawing Light away from the Bergs. "What do you want with him?"

"What greater proof of divinity than the power to rewrite what is?" Light spread his arms wide. "What _wouldn't _we want with him. No harm will come to him, I assure you. He will be our figurehead, a prince of the church."

"A weapon," Claire finished.

Light's tone dropped. "We are all weapons."

A creepy feeling began to spread over Elle's skin that didn't have anything to do with the water. She realized that Gretchen's eyes were still closed and she was still whispering to herself. It wasn't a prayer, she now saw.

Gretchen was saying one word over and over again. Stephen. Not a mantra but a plea.

Taking the Lord's name in vain sounded like a really good idea again. Deciding she needed to get Light's attention away from Claire and Gretchen, Elle said, "Okay, how about we leave them out of this and I take you to Stephen?"

Light seemed to think it over for a second. "No. Tell me where you hid him right now or I'll kill one of these people."

Lillian gave a choked sob.

"He's in the care of a Company agent on his way out of the state to a new safe house," Elle lied.

Light tipped his head and gave a half smile. "No." He looked back at the acolytes. "Crush the girlfriend," he said. "The non special one."

"Wait!"

The male acolyte came forward and grabbed Gretchen, yanking her away from Claire.

Before he could use his ability on her though, Gretchen's eyes opened and that same uncomfortable feeling from Stephen's house flooded the room. Her eyes were white.

She threw her head back and screamed. Power exploded in the house. Wind nearly knocked Elle from her feet and turned every knickknack, picture frame, and book in the room into a swirling tornado of blunt objects.

Seizing on the surprise, Claire dove for the box and shoved it across the floor toward Elle.

Elle went down, let just enough of a current jump from her hands to melt the tape. Just that little bit was enough to hurt like a mother but it was worth it when her hand found the reassuring feel of cold metal buried in the sea of packing paper in the box.

She jammed the clip home, came up to her knee, and in one smooth motion flicked the safety off and took aim at the man holding onto Gretchen. The gunshot was barely audible over the roar of wind. Her first shot shattered his shoulder and made him stumble back. Her second, third, and fourth shots caught him center mass and took away any chance he might use his crushing power on Gretchen.

Light wheeled on her, lightning already forming around his hands. Elle swung her gun around but knew he had her. Speed of light topped speed of bullet.

_Get out!_

The words came from the uncomfortable power swirling around and Elle felt them in her bones more than heard them. They made everything…feel wrong.

_Get out!_

A blinding blue flash lit the room and instead of the stinging feel of lightning Elle expected everything just stopped.

Light, the thin special, and the crusher Elle killed were gone. The wind stopped, swirling objects fell, and Gretchen collapsed.

And save for the ringing in her ears, everything was quiet.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Elle pushed painfully to her feet and took stock of the scene. The house looked trashed but otherwise was still standing. She didn't see any fires or immediate dangers. The end tables and coffee table were toothpicks and debris from ruined shelves littered the floor. The stink of ozone hung heavy in the air.

Everyone was alive though and more or less unhurt.

Elle hurried to Gretchen. Her eyes had returned to normal but she had a trickle of blood coming from her nose. "You with us?"

"Barely." Gretchen stood, wobbly, but under her own power.

Claire came up behind her and looked over Elle's shoulder. "Elle," she said.

She turned and saw Lillian and Howard Berg standing in the ruins of the living room. Martin sat on the edge of an upturned lounge chair, still looking very dazed, and rubbed his chest where he took the blast.

"Get away from her," Howard said. "I want both of you out of this house."

"No! Mom, dad, please—"

Lillian shook her head. "These people are not welcome here. Not now or ever again."

Claire and Elle exchanged a glance. Reluctantly, the former nodded.

"No," Gretchen said again, strength coming back to her voice. "This is my home too. You can't kick them out."

Howard seemed to come to a decision right then and there. "Fine," he said. "You get out too."

"What?" Elle beat Claire to the outraged outburst.

"Mr. Berg, we'll—"

"Yes," Gretchen finished for her, "we will. Claire, could you get our bags please?"

"It doesn't have to be this way."

Martin tried to stand up and speak, but sat back down with a groan. His mother went to his side.

"You have three minutes," Howard said. "And then I'm calling the police to report a break in. It is up to you if I tell them the intruders are still here."

Rocking on the balls of her feet twice, Claire finally broke from the pack and headed upstairs.

Elle positioned herself between the Bergs and Gretchen. "You are making a huge mistake. Trust me on that."

"Making threats now? Haven't you done enough? The mistakes we've made were allowing your kind to come into our home and not pulling our daughter out of that school when we found out the kinds of creatures she was associating with."

"Oh you have no idea what a threat from me entails, Howard, but keep it up and you will."

"Gretchen…"

"Stay with them, Martin," Gretchen said. "We'll talk later. It will be all right."

Claire came down the stairs, a bag over each shoulder and one in her hand. It would have been comical, a small woman with so many bags, if the situation wasn't so tense.

Elle took one of them from her girlfriend and looked back to Gretchen's parents. "This might not be my holiday but you've showed me the importance of one thing. Let's go."

She led the way out the broken door, Claire bringing up the rear, with Gretchen tucked safely between them. Outside the air was biting cold and made Elle aware her clothes were still wet.

Gretchen sniffed and wiped at the blood on her upper lip.

Elle sighed and tried to think as they walked. She had to get them out of the weather and to safety as fast as possible.

"Will the church come back for them?" Gretchen asked.

"Probably not," Elle said. "The police will be there soon and Light was only really after us."

"We need to call West," Claire said. "Warn him." She didn't seem bothered by the cold.

"Not until we know how they tracked us," Elle said. "They came after us and not him that means his location is uncompromised right now. I want to leave it that way until we can pull ourselves together and make sure our phones aren't tapped."

They rounded the corner and started down the next block. It was fully dark out but outside Christmas lights and displays provided more than enough light to see by. There was no one around and the world seemed incredibly still after the noise and bustle of the invasion.

"I need to sit down," Gretchen said at the end of the street. "My heart is racing."

Claire and Elle helped her down and sat next to her on the curb. Their breath fogged in the cold air. Claire rubbed Gretchen's back both for reassurance and heat. "We need to call a cab or something. Put some distance between us and them."

Whether she meant the church or the Bergs, Elle didn't know. But she agreed. Still not sure if she could trust their phones, she looked around and listened carefully. No sirens yet. The police would be coming though—even if Howard didn't make good on the threat, someone must have heard the commotion with Light.

"Want to tell me what the hell that was back there?"

Gretchen shrugged. "I don't know. I just thought…I thought back to when I heard Stephen's voice and tried to talk to him. I asked him to please help me like you helped him."

"Any chance you made them go out to the cornfield? Like in a Yet I Must Scream kind of way?"

"I don't think so. I wanted them away but I don't think I managed to get them very far. Just that little bit felt like I was going to split in two." Gretchen cradled her head and leaned forward. Blood continued to drip from her nose.

Elle bit her lip. They needed transportation, fast, and one that didn't involve other people.

Elle's gaze fell on a dark house several doors down without an attached garage. Like the other homes on the block it had a driveway big enough for two cars. There was only one parked. She didn't see any Christmas lights or holiday decorations.

She drummed her fingers against the curb as she thought. Beggars can't be choosers. She stood. "Wait here, girls."

"What are you going to do, Elle?"

"Keep your spankies on, Cheerleader. I'm going to get us out of here."

Elle crossed the street, turning in circles as she did so looking for signs of nosey neighbors. Not a curtain was disturbed. Perfect.

She walked past the dark driveway, peered at the house, and then doubled back across the lawn and deeper in the shadows.

The car was a little Nissan GT-R sport coupe, probably the toy of some middle aged man with a small penis and disposable income. Knowing better than to touch the door handle right off, Elle walked around the entire length of the car and bent near the front grille. It took some searching, but she found a little red wire running along the underside to where she suspected the battery was located.

Letting a strong current flow between her finger and it, Elle overloaded and fried the component. The car alarm flashed once, the locks opened, and a single siren sounded before going quiet.

Standing, she looked around to see if anyone took notice of the brief noise. Nothing. Gotta love the suburbs, she thought. Everyone was busy with his or her own crap.

Walking around the front end like she was on her way to work, Elle opened the driver's side door and climbed in. The owner might have a small wee one but he was tall. Elle moved the seat forward until she could reach the pedals. A zap to the ignition wires while pressing the start button and she was in business.

The dashboard lights glowed red as the engine happily hummed. Elle took a second to familiarize herself with the controls and paddle shifters before backing out of the driveway.

Claire wore a disapproving look when Elle pulled up and shook her head. "This is going unnoticed?"

"Not the family car," Elle said. "It got left behind when the Smiths paid a visit to their gram-gram. Now get in."

Gretchen still looked queasy and wasn't in a position to argue. Claire climbed into the backseat and put the passenger seat back into position for Gretchen. It was probably best if the sick person had the access to the side of the road, for obvious reasons.

Seconds later they were on the road and moving in the opposite direction of the Berg household.

"Don't speed," Claire said.

"Aw. This car was made to speed." She did see the wisdom in the advice though and kept the speedometer under the limit. Keeping an eye on the rearview mirror, Elle stayed off the highway and drove in a looping pattern through the outskirts of Austin. Company training included defensive and offensive driving and she wanted to make sure no one was following them.

At least no one in a car.

It wasn't outside the realm of possibility the church had put a flyer or speedster on them. If that was the case all the car tricks she knew wouldn't shake them.

"Everyone turn your phones off," Elle said.

"Are you sure? We need to contact Micah and West."

"We will."

An EM manipulator could also track them by their phones. Elle mentally kicked herself for not thinking of that sooner. Digital hiding basics right there and she forgot about it. Other things on her mind.

"How are you holding up over there, Doe Eyes?"

"Good." Gretchen kept her head resting on the seatbelt return. "I can still play, coach. Put me in."

"Warming the bench right now." Like your brother, Elle almost joked but caught herself in time. No family mentions for a while, she thought.

Silence fell in their new car. Elle executed a sharp turn to throw off anyone that might be tailing them and played with the radio controls. Soothing piano music came from the speakers. She hit the power button with a grimace. "What sort of douche buys a sports car and listens to classical, am I right? I mean, play some AC DC or something."

Uneasy silence settled.

After another three turns Claire spoke up, "The street behind us is empty. Only my dad could have stayed with you this long. We have to get to a hotel. I have cash."

"That's great, Pom Pom, but Douchey McGee didn't have one preprogrammed into the GPS and I don't know where I'm going."

"Turn left up here at the light, down about a mile—two lights—and then another left. The hotel isn't low end but paying with cash won't seem entirely abnormal," Gretchen said. Then shrugged. "In high school that was the go to place when you wanted to…you know."

Elle hit the turn signal. "That's great. Is there a certain room you'd like me to ask for to relive old times?"

"Elle." Claire's voice was quick and harsh.

"Sorry." Elle sighed. "I get cranky when people pour water on me, try to kill people I'm fond of, and I don't get to try potato pancakes."

Gretchen smiled weakly. "It's okay. I never stayed there…I was more of a backseat kind of girl." She winked at Claire.

"Yeah, she's doing better."

Gretchen's hook up hotel turned out to be a travel inn and motor lodge. Respectable enough looking for what they needed it for—Elle had lived in far worse—with a nine foot tall mascot standing by the parking lot gesturing for them to come in.

"Holy crap," Elle said, "it's a cowboy."

His neon light up hat and belt buckle illuminated the inside of the car as they drove past.

"Yep," Gretchen said. "Cowboy Curtis there with his tight pants has seen a lot of action come and go over the years."

Elle took the parking space with the least visibility from the street in case the cops decided to come looking for their ride. She killed the engine and popped the door.

"Why don't you go get the room, Cheerleader? You look more like the type they are used to seeing." Realizing how that sounded she quickly added, "Young, like high school. Not, you know, like a whore."

Claire gave a tight-lipped smile and climbed out once Elle did. "That's very reassuring. Thanks. I'll be right back."

Elle settled back in place behind the wheel and watched her go. "We'll get this straightened out," she said.

"I know." Gretchen didn't sound very sure however. She sounded tired and sad.

Elle didn't like that, not at all. She was at a serious loss for how to fix it. Bad guys she could handle—dead always worked best in those cases—but she wasn't sure how to make Gretchen not sad about her family.

The happy neon cowboy kept waving as they watched.

"I'm still envious," Elle said. "If that makes any difference."

"What?"

Elle fidgeted. How long could it possibly take to rent a single room for three grown women to all sleep together in?

"Well, we might talk about bad batting averages with families but Claire and you have something I don't and never will. A few good years of a stereotypical nuclear family. I have a few flashes of my mom and then a grandmother before the Company and that's it.

"I'm not even sure of their names. It is all sort of happy with some nice smells and then grown ups are talking about how I made the block go dark. There are a lot of medical tables after that."

Gretchen reached for her hand but Elle fiddled with the wheel instead and pretended not to notice.

"So, yeah, your parents are jerks and they just fell below Noah in my eyes—and he tried to kill me a couple of times—but you had them for a while and could get them back."

"Thanks," Gretchen said. "I—"

"Claire's back."

Noah's baby girl knew her craft well and managed to swing a corner room with windows facing both the parking lot entrance and the oncoming traffic from the street beyond. Very defendable with a couple of avenues of escape if it came down to it. Elle wholeheartedly approved. Swiping quickly at her eyes, she helped Claire unload the bags and carry them to the room.

Inside wasn't much to write home about. Basic full size bed with light tan sheets and comforter. Tiny bathroom. Desk with pens chained to it. And seashore artwork that Elle swore was the same in every hotel she'd ever been in.

"Ah, home crap home."

The two specials swept through the room, inspecting it for points of entry and escape. Elle had Company training to thank for that and Claire had her father.

Gretchen waited for them to finish—it was more for a sense of security than any real battle plan—and then kicked off her shoes in defiance of every Dateline blacklight hotel special they had ever watched. "I need a shower," she said. "Then I'm going to sleep for an hour or week, whichever comes first."

Elle watched her go and heard the water spray start a few moments later. Gretchen had left the door slightly ajar, not quite an invitation but a comforting gesture regardless.

Claire sat on the edge of the bed and sighed.

"Well, Ollie, this is another fine mess we've gotten into." Elle leaned against the desk and cross her arms over her stomach.

"We need to get a hold of our people," Claire said. "It can't wait. We can use the hotel phone if we have to."

Elle agreed, but not about using the landline. She'd caught one of the church specials glancing at the phone at the Berg's house. They needed new cell phones that they only kept alive during set intervals. Basic Company protocols. She stepped forward and pulled the gun out of the waistband of her pants. "Here, hang on to this for me. I'm going out for a second."

"You are? Where?"

"Not far. I saw a dollar store down the street. I want to buy some supplies for the night."

Claire gave her a look that didn't come off quite as humor filled as she probably intended. "I don't think we need condoms."

"Leave the sauciness to me, Cheerleader." She left the gun sitting on the bed and gave Claire a quick kiss. "I'll be back soon. Keep this door locked."

"Can I take candy from strangers?"

"Totally. I would if I could."

Elle left the room and started walking. She liked the car where it was, nice and hidden, so she jogged across the parking lot and started walking in the direction of the store. Traffic wasn't heavy in this neighborhood but there were a few cars cruising down the road.

Elle let her trained gaze sweep over each one and linger in the dark alleys between buildings. She looked for anything suspicious or dangerous for her girlfriends. Nothing seemed amiss or out of place.

The store was only a couple of blocks down and well lit in the dark Texas night. It was a generic dollar store that seemed to grow wild below the Mason-Dixon Line like mushrooms. Cheap fabric poinsettias decorated the outside of the store along with small Christmas inflatables.

Inside it was warm, smelled like plastic, and had carols playing over the loudspeaker. An old woman wearing a smock worked the counter and smiled when the bells on the door jingled. "Hello! Happy holidays."

"Thanks," Elle said without really paying attention. "Merry Hanukkah."

She grabbed a hand basket and started shopping. The store only had a couple of other shoppers so Elle moved quickly down the aisles. First stop was disposable phones. She grabbed three of the cheapest and airtime cards for each. Next she hit the food department for a quick dinner for three. Eggo didn't make a box of frozen potato pancakes much to her disappointment.

Odds and ends from the Christmas aisle and she was set. She looked longingly at the bottles of whiskey. It was temping but if Light somehow found them she didn't want to fight another special while hung over. She moved past the whiskey with a sigh and kept on going to the checkout.

She placed the basket on the counter and the old woman looked at the items. "Impromptu office party," Elle explained and tossed a box of matches from the impulse buys on the pile of items.

Elle thought for a second. "Start ringing me up. I'll be right back." She headed back into the aisles and came back with a small box of wine and a package of Solo cups. "Now it's a party. Double bag all this for me, would you, Louise?"

She paid cash for everything to keep the ping off her bank card and looped the bags around each wrist, box of wine tucked neatly under one arm. The walk back wasn't as enjoyable with the load of groceries weighing her down but she trekked along. Halfway back, a police car shot by with its lights and siren on but it kept going past the hotel and didn't slow. Probably on the way to an accident caused by a holiday drunk driver. Elle hitched her boxed wine a little higher to keep it from slipping. Some people had no responsibility this time of year.

She passed the waving cowboy and this time took notice of the mounted security cameras keeping an eye on the hotel and parking lot. Helpful to know in case the church had a technopath on the payroll. Though if they had an evil goateed Micah over there she, Claire, and Gretchen were pretty much screwed.

The curtain blocking the window facing the parking lot moved as she got closer and Claire opened the door. She had the gun in one hand, finger off the trigger, and it was Elle had to admit more than a little hot.

"Did you buy the store out?"

"Just about." Elle deposited the bags on the desk.

Claire closed the door behind her and threw the lock into place. "How long do you think we're going to be here?" she asked peering into one.

Gretchen lay on the bed, wearing only a pair of shorts and a white t-shirt. Her hair was wet and the shirt clung to her skin in a distracting way. She pushed up on her elbows to see what Elle bought.

"Just tonight hopefully," Elle said, turning her attention back to the groceries. "But we might as well make the best of it." She began emptying bags.

The wine and Solo cups went off to one side; they were for later anyway. Elle set a one foot tall plastic Christmas tree on the desktop, the tips of its fake pine needles flashed red and green when she hit a button on the base. Next to it she lined up little glass candleholders and placed a yellow ez wick taper in each.

"A makeshift menorah?" Gretchen asked.

"Best part of doing our own celebration," Elle said, "is we can do both Hanukkah and Christmas. I kinda missed the tree."

Claire came up behind her, put her hands on her hips, and kissed Elle's neck. "I do believe you've gone soft."

"Have not. It's to make Doe Eyes feel better." She pulled out the disposable phones. "Here crack those open and plug them in. Or leave them out and I'll charge them later by hand. Until we know how the church found us that is how we contact our people. We keep them off when we're not using them."

"Good idea." Claire took the packages from her and moved to the night table, where there was a wall outlet.

Gretchen climbed to her feet and padded over to the desk. "All this to make me feel better?"

"Well, I figured if the holiday crap didn't do it the bargain booze would."

Gretchen gave her a knowing smile. "Give me the matches. Claire?"

Finished with the phones, Claire walked over and stood on Gretchen's right while Elle stood to the left. Gretchen removed the extra candles and set them aside, leaving just one to the right and another to serve as the Shamash.

She opened the box and took out a match and struck it. "Blessed are You, O Lord our God, Ruler of the Universe, Who made miracles for our forefathers in those days at this time." Holding the match to the Shamash's wick, she lit the candle and then flicked the match out. Gripping the candle she nodded to Claire and Elle.

Understanding from what they saw at the Berg household, both specials gripped the candle with her and together the three of them lit the first Hanukkah candle.

As the flame took, Gretchen recited, "Blessed are You, O Lord Our God, Ruler of the Universe, Who has kept us alive, sustained us and brought us to this season."

"Amen."

"Amen."

They left the candle burning, as the Jewish tradition book said, and settled in. Elle cracked open the wine and filled three cups. It tasted horrible but would do the trick if necessary. Claire just grimaced at the taste and didn't bother drinking any more—Elle remembered she was immune to the trick no matter what the quality of the booze.

Claire huddled where the phones were charging and began adding the airtime cards.

The room had a tv—free HBO—but all Elle could find on was a black and white holiday movie with priests and nuns. Deciding it was better than nothing, she left the volume down low for background noise.

Gretchen sat on the desk chair, one bare leg up on the seat and her arms crossed, staring at the Hanukkah candle.

"You good, Doe Eyes?" Elle peered over and saw Gretchen's cup was empty.

"Fine." Gretchen was quiet for a moment before adding, "They went after my family tonight."

Muscles in Elle's back tightened. She thought for a moment that she was going to blame specials for bringing danger into their lives. "Yeah, they did."

Gretchen's gaze shifted to hers. It was hard and determined. "I want you to promise me that we're going to stop them. Salt and that Light and whoever he is working with. I want them stopped."

Elle's mouth twisted. "We're going to kill them."

"Thank you."

Claire came up. "West is fine. I think I woke him up—he did fly a long way today. No activity around him and he was going to make a couple of fly bys to make sure there isn't anyone up top. We'll meet tomorrow."

"What about The Great Oz?"

Claire shook her head. "I left a message on one of his dummy voicemails. It wasn't coming from my normal number so it might take a bit for him to realize it is there." She looked between them. "Everything okay?"

"We were just talking about tomorrow," Gretchen said. "I want to be part of it. No more waiting in the room where it is safe. I'm not a special but I still want to fight these battles with you."

Church bells started ringing on the tv and Elle laughed at the irony. She set her cup down and reached for Gretchen. Pulling her up and to her feet, she leaned in for a kiss.

Gretchen pressed against her a little harder than normal, forcing Elle to take her weight. A hand slinked around her waist, relieving some of the pressure and Claire moved Gretchen's hair out of the way with her other hand. She gave a suckling kiss to the exposed skin of Gretchen's neck.

Briefly, Elle flashed back to their first time together—in another cheap hotel while on the run from a dangerous special. Then it was the other two, led by Gretchen, giving her comfort. She decided it was more than fair she return the favor.

The backs of her knees touched the bed before she was even aware of having moved across the room. The three of them went down in a tangle of limbs and the cares and worries of the disastrous night didn't seem so important for a while.

...

...

Micah parked near an overpass and started walking the rest of the way to his friend. It was Christmas time all over the city, with decoration and music, but here it was mostly just cold and dark. His shoes beat a path down concrete as he started looking for his target.

Bennie Klein moved around a lot but he almost always came back to this area. There were a lot of specials on the streets and he did his best to look after them. A better job, he claimed, then Micah's people in the local shelter. It was his main reason for still being out here despite Micah's attempts to change things.

Micah also knew he had other reasons. Unlike other specials the Company hadn't experimented on Bennie, but he did have problems related to his ability.

Micah was sympathetic. Bennie's power dealt with space and distance in the same ballpark as Molly's and it tortured him. In a different world, Molly could have ended up like Bennie or worse. And Micah wasn't fond of thinking thoughts like that.

He slipped his hands in his coat pockets and turned down a side alley. A few of the people looked up when he entered, a couple Micah knew by name. He did his best to look after as many specials as possible, there were always more however, and those like the head of a nearby shelter helped him with the ones that slipped through the cracks. That was why Micah made sure the shelter stayed well funded.

Bennie was halfway down, bundled against the cold with his backpack propped up next to him. He was a middle aged man, dark skinned, with white in his hair and beard.

"Hey, Bennie." Micah sat beside him. "Merry Christmas."

"Hello, young man." For a second Micah couldn't tell if Bennie recognized him or not. "Merry Christmas to you too."

Micah fished around in his pocket. "I brought you something." He pulled out a sandwich double wrapped in foil. "Turkey."

"Thanks, man." He bit into it and then offered the other side. "Want a bite?"

"No, I had some earlier. Molly says hi."

Bennie shook his finger. "That's the girl you're always running around with, right? You ever marry her yet?"

"No, not yet." Micah smiled. "That was nice of you to hint for her."

Bennie laughed and tucked back into the sandwich.

"Listen, Bennie, I need you to do something for me."  
"Nah-uh. I don't do that no more. Sending people, man, it messes with me. Don't make me feel right in the head."

"I know. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. If it helps, it isn't a person. Just a small package."

Foil crinkled as Bennie's hands tightened. "I don't know…"

"Please." Micah unzipped his coat and reached into the inside pocket for a small box a little longer than the palm of his hand. Brown shipping paper covered it. "It doesn't have to go very far—just to the other end of the city."

Bennie gave a sharp grunt. "Distance ain't nothing. People think it is the length of somethin' that matters. It don't. Points in space-time are constant. It is just a matter of pinching them together." He grabbed at the air with his thumb and forefinger several times. "People don't get that. Don't see it like me."

Micah chewed on the inside of his cheek. He didn't exactly feel good about this. "I know. If there was another way, I wouldn't ask you."

Bennie put down the few bites of sandwich left and snatched the package from Micah. "Give me the numbers," he said.

Micah handed him a slip of paper with GPS coordinates written on it. By his calculations, the package had a leeway of three feet from that spot to still be safe from discovery. But he also knew Bennie's ability and that those extra feet wouldn't be necessary. Bennie could hit a dime sitting on the street on the other side of the world if he had the coordinates in front of him.

Some people said they could see numbers in their heads when doing math. Bennie actually could. He could see them everywhere at all times. Angles, trajectories, and spatial locations. Advanced mathematics far beyond what most people ever gave thought to. For him the world was one huge math proof solution.

Bennie looked at the numbers on the paper and then back to the package in his hand. The muscles in his arm rippled unnaturally as did the air around the package. He tipped his head and began whispering numbers and figures to himself.

Micah didn't even try and follow what he was saying. It was incredibly complex and only fully understandable to someone else with Bennie's ability.

The air rippled again and then began curling around the package like plastic melting in a fire. As Micah watched the planes and angles of the package seemed to look wrong, as though seeing them through a spinning prism. It seemed to stretch abnormally long before snapping back with an audible pop. Air rushed outward from the space around Bennie's hand and the package was gone.

He shivered violently and Micah knew it didn't have anything to do with the cold. Memories of how badly Bennie had reacted last time kept Micah from touching him with a comforting hand. The older special squeezed his eyes shut and his jaw worked soundlessly.

Micah winced in sympathy. He knew right now Bennie existed in two places at the same time and his brain, not conditioned to that, was struggling to make sense of it.

It lasted for several long minutes. Bennie finally won the fight and opened his eyes, what he saw however Micah had no clue. Whatever it was, it wasn't the same thing as everyone else.

"Thank you, my friend."

Bennie grabbed what was left of his sandwich. "Integers and fractions," he said. "People just don't get how it all fits together. They think space-time is like rubber but it isn't! It ain't that tough. Wet paper is what it is. Easy to tear if you ain't careful. You can ball it up or fold it together. Now balling it makes it tough. Can't rip that sucker, nope. Folding it though gets tricky because of the extra time dimensions."

He laughed, took a bite of turkey, and kept talking. "They don't teach you about those, but they're there. Fourth dimension. Ha! More like four through six. Stick your finger in one of those and it ain't ever comin' back. No, sir."

Micah sat with him and let him ramble until Bennie had tired himself out and was starting to fall asleep. Mindful that no one else saw, Micah slipped a roll of money in Bennie's coat pocket and walked away.

He hated this line of work at times.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

"Admit it, you are going to enjoy this."

Micah didn't lower the binoculars. "I don't know what you are talking about. I don't enjoy destroying things."

Beside him, Molly's shrug was all but lost in several layers of clothes and a heavy coat. "Maybe not, but it bugs you this place uses paper instead of digital."

"Does not."

"Just saying that if it was something else, you might not be so extreme."

"I'm not being extreme. I'm tying up loose ends." He put the binoculars down and fished in the bag at his feet for his tablet computer. One touch had it scanning for nearby wireless networks—his own modifications extending its built in range somewhat—and another had it unlocking one of the connections belonging to one of AAT's neighbors.

Micah was smart enough not to try AAT's. He could get in but didn't trust that they hadn't left a few traps for him. The church had specials stationed on guard duty in the building before his breach and would certainly have added a layer of digital security since.

He didn't doubt he could outgun even another technopath if that is what they used, but he hadn't come for a fight tonight. Molly was with so that meant no unnecessary chances.

A little green exclamation point flashed in the corner of the screen and informed him that it was in. Seconds later his ability was flooding through the computer network. Information passed to his brain from the tablet, automatically filtered and sorted by importance by his subconscious. He did kind of like this part.

Aware Molly was watching him for the faintest traces of a smile, he kept his face neutral. They did have a job to do after all.

Micah glanced at the clock on the screen. "It's time," he said.

After the break in it was only a matter of time before the church pulled their files out of AAT in favor of something with better security. Probably something completely in house and away from the city. He couldn't risk Company files with dangerous information staying in their hands—especially if they moved it even further from his reach. Short of being able to steal it all himself, he had to destroy it.

One of the clear disadvantages of hard copy information storage. In the digital world there was always a ghost copy somewhere. In the real world a well placed fire could delete everything.

Micah began hacking into the building's PA system. He stayed away from the areas he would have trapped if rigging the network for someone like him. Security shifts hadn't changed since the break in—the high levels still kept under manual lock down at the end of business each night. There were more people in the building now, but they were still in the lower areas. Easier for them to evacuate, he thought.

Spliced in to the PA system, he touched a button on the screen and began playing a prerecorded warning. Since he used the fire alarm trick last time, Micah didn't want to risk one of the guards thinking it was another break in and rushing up to AAT even though the alarm was sounding.

So he hacked the building's speakers and broadcasted a bomb threat. Well, he thought, more of a bomb promise.

The tablet went back in the bag and he raised the binoculars again. It only took a few minutes for the people to come filing out of the building. He had figured a window between how long it would take for the guards to empty out and the police to arrive.

The rush of people came to a stop and the building stood quiet. There were a dozen, maybe more, crowded on the street looking up. Micah glanced over at Molly and offered the binoculars. She wasn't part of the plan; he could have done this on his own, but she had wanted to come with. It was good to have her out in the field again—it reminded him of less pleasant but uncomplicated days when he was Rebel fighting against Building 26.

Molly shook her head at the binoculars and focused on the AAT building with unaided eyes. They were several blocks away, up on the rooftop of an adjacent building, but she wasn't using just her sense of sight.

Her eyes flicked back and forth as her gaze took in each dark window. Distantly, he heard sirens.

"Mol?"

"It's empty," she confirmed.

"Okay. Let's light it up."

They turned away from the rooftop edge and started walking back. Micah pulled out his phone and sent a text message to the cannibalized cell phone detonator that he'd rigged.

Fire alone wasn't going to do the trick. AAT actually did offer very good protection for its hard copy clients. All of their locked file cabinets had reinforcements to survive a fire. Likewise with water and fire suppressant damage.

An explosion from inside one of the file cabinets however would destroy all the Company files and might even preserve the some of other data belonging with clients Micah had no issues with. If it didn't, well, then too bad.

Claire had unknowingly given him a gift when she took that folder and created space inside the protected cabinet. His time as Rebel had provided the knowledge of building a big bomb in a small package. Bennie really was skilled—he hit the mark perfectly by dropping the bomb where that file folder used to sit.

Encoded in the timer was a delay of ten seconds—another trick he learned as Rebel. It was enough time for them to return to the folding chairs they'd setup on the rooftop. Molly reached for a thermos she'd packed filled with hot chocolate.

Back at the AAT building several of the windows suddenly blew outward with the concussion of the blast. There was very little fire but that didn't matter. The explosion had destroyed the data long before the fire suppressant and sprinklers could kick in.

Together, Micah and Molly watched with balcony seats as Company ghosts died.

...

...

Elle looked forward to the day when a vacation didn't involve driving to meet up points in stolen cars. That day, however, was not yet upon her.

The meet up point was a small park not far from the hotel geek boy had put Stephen and the air steward up in. They were already waiting at a picnic bench when she pulled the GT-R into a parking spot.

Letting Claire take Gretchen to the table directly, Elle walked a wide path around the edge of the park, looking for anyone suspicious. It didn't look like anyone followed Flyboy so if the church dropped by it was because one of them had a tag.

The little antichrist sat at the table working on a coloring book, dragging his crayons through and around the lines. Elle appreciated that. She was never one for working inside the lines either. Gretchen hesitated when she caught sight of Stephen and then tried talking to him.

Looping around the park, Elle couldn't hear what she said but it didn't provoke a reaction from the kid. Gretchen seemed a little let down because of that.

West stood when he saw them and hugged Claire once they were close enough. Elle didn't think very much of that. But she had staked plenty of claim to Claire the night before so she let it pass. Let him have his little wet dreams. She got to actually have it in vivid Technicolor.

He greeted Gretchen too and everyone sat. Elle walked up and nodded at him. "Flyboy."

"Bitch."

It kind of bugged her that he didn't make that sound nasty.

Elle put one foot up on the bench and swung up until she was sitting on the table with both feet planted on the seat. High ground and all that. "Gangs all here. Any problems with Rain Boy?"

"Hail, hail." West shook his head. "He's been fine. No outbursts or changes to thermodynamics that I can see."

Claire stared at Stephen. "I expected someone more…imposing."

"Considering our situation, Cheerleader, let's be thankful for the Hanukkah miracle that he isn't."

West leaned forward. "What is our situation? I mean, what do we do now?"

"Now we get you guys out of town." Elle dug around in her pocket and pulled out her disposable cell phone. "Then the girls and I have a little come to Jesus meeting with the Church of the Nephilim."

"How long have you been sitting on that quip?" West asked.

"Shut up and don't mess with me today. I've stolen two cars in one day; I'm a woman on the edge." Elle touched the speed dial and then speakerphone button. "Micah had better pick up. We're out here putting our butts on the line like we're Charlie's Angels or something."

The phone rang twice. "Hello, Agent Bishop."

"You're on speaker, Charlie. Everyone is here."

"The line is now encrypted. I'm glad you are all safe. I'm sorry I couldn't help last night. I had a small assignment to take care of."

Claire spoke up, "Anything wrong?"

"No. AAT just had a small accident that cost them all their stolen Company files."

"Awesome. How did you pull that off and why couldn't you do it without my girlfriend days ago?"

Amazingly Micah didn't sound exasperated at that. "I had an old friend pop a bomb into the file cabinet—something that wouldn't have worked without Claire's help."

"A teleporter?" Elle mouthed. "Son of a bitch."

Gretchen waved her back. "Please tell me you were able to find something to help us out in the meantime."

"Well, I found some information but I don't know how helpful it is going to be," Micah said. "If those names Claire found are correct the man that attacked you last night isn't just a missionary for the church. He is one of the founding members of the Church of the Nephilim. Desmond Wells, electrical manipulator that appeared on the Company's European radar back in the 90s before falling off all together. He and three others founded the church two years ago."

"So?" Elle asked. "We already knew he was a religious nut."

"So you won't be able to just walk right into a welcome center and kill him," Micah said. "It would be like taking out a monsignor in the Vatican."

"I seriously doubt he is rocking the Swiss Guard over there."

"No, but he is rocking dozens if not hundreds of superpowered devotees plus an equal amount of people that think he is practically a heavenly being, all willing to fight to defend him."

Elle didn't have anything to say to that. She looked off to the side.

"What about the other one?" Claire asked. "The partner that was hurt when they tried to take Stephen. Salt?"

Stephen glanced at her when he heard his name but then went back to coloring without any change of expression.

"I couldn't trace any treated gunshot wounds or reported car accidents back to them," Micah said. "Either they covered their tracks well or had a special heal him on the spot."

The latter, Elle figured. That was how they did things in the Company. "That means he's probably up and around right now."

"My thoughts exactly," Micah said. "Another reason I wouldn't recommend the direct approach."

"Not to mention you guys haven't seen what he can do—I have," Gretchen said. "Graphically. Salt would kill you all before you were even within sight of him."

"That's what they make scopes for," Elle said. "I say we mount up and start getting biblical on their asses."

"No running off half cocked," Micah said.

"I promise you I'm fully cocked." Elle noticed Gretchen looking at Stephen; she followed her gaze but the kid didn't look any different.

"Plus, we can't do anything until we get Stephen far away from here and under the care of another minder," West said. "I want to help you guys."

"I agree," Claire said. "We can't watch him and go after the church at the same time. Have you found a place yet, Micah?"

Elle leaned down. "You okay, Chestnut?"

Gretchen frowned and didn't answer right away; she kept looking at Stephen.

"I have," Micah said. "It's in state but a good drive away."

"I can fly him."

"Can you?" Claire asked. "What if he gets scared? Do we really want to test his ability that way?"

Elle kept her voice low. "Gretchen, say something."

"I think he is doing something," she said.

"We could sedate him."

"Too risky," Micah said. "There is a reason the Company kept him in a home instead of a medically induced coma down in Level Five. His ability could see that as an attack on him and fight back."

Elle straightened. "Doing what?"

Claire and West both looked over.

"I don't know," Gretchen said. "It's just a feeling around him like he is doing something."

"Any one else getting that?" Micah's voice was tiny coming from the speakerphone.

West stood and walked to Stephen. "I'm not."

"Neither am I."

"Me three," Elle said. "Doe Eye's are still…doey so she isn't channeling anything."

"Maybe they don't turn if she's this close?"

West shook his head. "Or maybe we're all just a little freaked? I certainly am."

Elle swung her legs around and sat cross-legged in front of Stephen. She put her hand over his coloring book and he looked up sharply at her. Power raced through the air. Different than her ability and not anywhere near as pleasant. Her skin twitched with it and she inched backward without even being aware of moving. "No, she's right. What the hell are you doing, kid?"

"Guys." Claire stood. "My phone is on and connected. Not the disposable—my regular one." She held up the offending device.

"What?!" Micah said. "Who did you call?"

Elle dug her phone out too; they all reached for phones that moments ago were off.

"Mine is on too."

"So is mine."

"Jesus."

"There isn't a number," Claire said. "It just says connected to remote source. I've never seen anything like it before."

Elle flipped her phone over and thumbed the back cover off. "Everyone take your batteries out."

"Could an EM manipulator have done that?" Gretchen asked, fumbling with her cover.

"No," Micah said. "Not if the phone was off to begin with."

"It was. Not my first rodeo." Elle pulled the battery out and dumped it on the picnic table. Turning the phone over she saw the screen was still lit up and connected to a remote source. "Well that's new."

West held up his phone, battery in the other hand, and it was still alive too."

"Damn."

"Ideas?" Claire asked.

"Take the sim card out," Micah said.

"Screw that." Elle tossed her phone down on the ground and gestured for everyone else to do the same with theirs. Lightning flared along her hand and hit the pile of phones. They sparked and the cases popped like logs in a fire. In seconds they were reduced to a fused mound of blackened circuit boards and broken screens. All dark and dead.

She turned on Stephen. "Not cool, kid. I had some pretty nifty pictures on that phone. If you are stupid enough to throw up a sign advertising where you are maybe we should just let the bible thumpers have you."

Claire turned in a full circle, scanning the streets around them. "That's exactly what he did," she said. "He used himself as bait to bring Light to us."

"No, he used us as bait. And bait only works if there is a trap to spring."

"Your abilities are all you need." Gretchen's eyes had gone white again. "They are coming." She blinked and was back to normal. "Ugh."

"Whoa," West said, looking at her. "Cool."

"Well that's perfect." Elle grabbed the open disposable phone and jumped off the table. "We need to get out of here. Check back with you later, Micah."

"Be careful."

She snapped the phone closed and started leading the way out of the park. "We'll meet up at—"

"Elle." Claire pointed at an older battered sedan pulling into the parking lot. "Can you see the passenger in that car?"

Elle peered—her eyes not as good as Claire's—and then saw him. Light. "Oh shit. Everyone run!"

West grabbed Stephen and carried him. The child reached for his coloring book and crayons but couldn't reach them before being swept away. He still gripped a single red crayon in his hand. The little yelp he made at that was the only sound Elle could remember hearing him make.

The four of them raced across the park, Stephen bouncing along clinging to West.

"Split up," Elle called. "Light's mine. I'll run interference while you guys get the kid away. Stay with Flyboy, Gretchen. Cheerleader, you're with me."

They jumped over the small wooden fence separating them from parking spaces. Elle looked over her shoulder and saw the sedan racing along the road looping around the park, getting closer to them. "Going to need you to drive, Cheerleader."

Gretchen opened the station wagon's rear door and West practically shoved Stephen inside. She followed behind and closed the door. He sailed smoothly over the top of the car and came down next to the driver side door.

"I don't know how to drive stick," Claire said.

Grumbling and cursing to herself, Elle slid across the hood of the GT-R and dove for the driver seat. Claire climbed in next to her.

West already had the station wagon moving when Elle reached under the dash and sparked her car to life. Not bothering to watch him leave, she put one arm behind the seat and looked over her shoulder. "Buckle up," she said and dropped her foot.

The sports car raced backward across the lot. Elle caught a glimpse of the sedan coming around the bend out her side window and cut the wheel to angle right for it.

The impact caught the rear bumper of her car against the passenger side front of Light's car. The GT-R had enough momentum to keep moving backward while the sedan spun to the side, its wheel catching part of the wooden fence.

Elle turned the steering wheel and hit the brakes. Their tires screeched and a cloud of burned rubber enveloped the backend. The car swung around almost a full hundred and eighty degrees. Elle worked the gear paddles and gas pedal.

The Nissan's front end hit their side with a crunch of bending metal. They didn't have enough momentum to disable the car, but it knocked the church people around a bit. Elle took more than a little joy in seeing Light fly into his door. Apparently Brits didn't know America had seatbelt laws.

Elle dropped the car into reverse and shot backward. "Come on, you sons of bitches," she said. "Follow me."

The sedan showed no signs of moving when she went back two lanes all the way to the end of the lot. She revved the engine, waiting for a reaction.

"Elle…"

"Hold on." She dropped the car into gear and they launched forward.

At the last second the sedan shot out of the way.

Laughing, Elle cut the wheel and pulled the handbrake. The back tires locked and they slid sideways. The fence hit the side of the car and shattered. They fishtailed across the park grounds and sod shot up around them.

Claire gripped the seat with one hand and the dashboard with the other.

Elle recovered from the slide, release the brake, and started forward again. The rev counter clocked up as all four wheels touched pavement again. She came up hard on the sedan's bumper, tapping it to let him know she was back there.

The lot wrapped around the park before emptying out back on the main road. Together the two cars raced the length of the lot. Up ahead, Elle could see the station wagon with its head start already exiting back out into traffic.

She downshifted and fell back a little. There wasn't enough room to pit the sedan or force it in a different direction.

The sedan shot up the small incline and began making up ground.

Elle was right behind merging into traffic and keeping them in sight. She checked all the mirrors. No cops in sight and not much in other cars yet. If West made a run for the highway that would change and unless Costa Verde traffic school covered losing a tail and avoiding a box maneuver they were screwed. She didn't trust that Flyboy wouldn't drive straight into morning congestion.

Elle switched to the inside lane and accelerated. The performance engine grumbled and they came up along side the sedan, close enough to see a lengthy unpleasant looking driver. Light looked past him and saw her.

Elle smiled and swung inward. The cars met with a love tap.

Light and his friend tried to pull ahead, but it couldn't outpace the GT-R.

Elle switched her gaze between the sedan and the road ahead. She saw the sedan driver pull his wheel and get ready to return the sidelong kiss.

At the last possible moment she floored the accelerator and worked the shifters. Their sports car shot ahead and the sedan nearly over corrected and spun.

Elle watched them in the rearview mirror and positioned in front of them when they evened back out. She downshifted and tapped the brake.

The sedan wasn't expecting that and their front end hit Elle's rear bumper. She was ready for the hit and took it.

Ahead she saw the station wagon turn left at an intersection.

Her gaze went back to the mirror. She tried to decide if they had seen that too or if she could fake them out. Not enough of a lead, she thought and turned left as well. Both cars shot through on a yellow light.

"Can you get that thing to work?" Elle asked and jerked her chin toward the GPS.

Claire leaned forward and began touching screen buttons. "Where do you want to go?"

"I just need to see a map of the land," she said. "Streets and intersections. Maybe we can figure out a place to lose these guys."

Claire turned the thing on and called up a street level map. Good enough. Thankfully there was no annoying German voice instructing her where to go.

The sedan came up on their tail and tried to pass them.

Elle blocked them and looked over her shoulder to make sure they weren't setting up a pit move of their own. Her foot twitched on the gas and widened the space between them just enough to keep tall pale and creepy from trying it.

"Take the wheel, Cheerleader." Elle popped her seatbelt.

"Are you going somewhere?"

Elle hit the power window switch, filling the car with wind. Setting the cruise, she hitched up on one leg and twisted her torso out the driver side window. The car drifted slightly before Claire could lean over the center column and grip the wheel.

"Keep it straight!" Elle extended her arm over the roof of the car, formed a finger pistol with her thumb and first two fingers, and took aim. The bolt left her hand and hit the pursuing car just above its grille. Sparks exploded from the impact; the sedan swerved slightly, but there wasn't enough damage to disable the car.

Her next shot clipped the sedan's roof just above the windshield, jarring it in the frame but not enough to collapse it inward.

Light reached out his passenger side window just enough to return fire without becoming a target himself. The awkward angle cost him accuracy however. His first shot went wide and clipped a lightpole. The next hit the GT-R's back end and sent them fishtailing before Claire could correct.

Sparks and arcs of power peppered Elle's arm. Inside the car she grabbed the back of the driver's seat with her other hand to keep from flying out the window entirely. She fired blindly back hoping to at least keep him from getting off another good shot.

The GT-R straightened but before Elle could take aim Claire started yelling, "Intersection. Which way?"

Elle dropped back inside the car and took control just as they passed underneath the mercifully green stoplight. She worked the paddles and cut the wheel sharply to the left.

The car growled in protest but Elle swung around a slow moving car and glanced in her mirror. The sedan went right.

"Which way did Flyboy go?"

Claire shook her head. "I don't know. I lost sight of them when we nearly jumped the curb."

Elle floored the gas and jammed the transmission in gear. The speedometer jumped over sixty miles an hour and she began weaving around the smattering of traffic. She didn't see the station wagon anywhere and none of the buildings had secluded parking to hide from a tail.

Elle gestured toward the GPS. "Can you widen that view?"

Claire touched the screen and pulled the view from several blocks to over a mile. "What are you thinking?"

Elle scanned it while also keeping an eye on the road. She took the next right fast and hard. They were still outside the city proper; she recognized several of the exits from the drive back in from Muriel Junction. She reached over and moved the map a little further.

West might have been an idiot but he wasn't stupid. He was a freedom fighter and not a Company agent but he'd know that if he couldn't out drive Light he would have to find some place defendable and far away from civilians until he could fly everyone away.

Gretchen might know the area but he didn't. He would go somewhere familiar.

Elle found what she was looking for on the map.

The GT-R took another right and the engine revved as they accelerated over eighty.

She tried to judge how far ahead they were. Another turn and the populated areas were behind them. Traffic thinned out to practically none as they entered an industrial section. They blew a stop sign as she merged onto the street Martin had taken just the day before.

Elle saw them less than a thousand yards from the abandoned shopping plaza where she and Martin had met up with West and Claire. The station wagon was going faster than was probably intended when it was built, but the sedan was still pacing them. Several new dents, dings, and scorch marks decorated the wagon. Light was leaning out his window getting ready to place another.

"Hang on." Elle floored the gas and they accelerated hard enough to throw them back in their seats.

The GT-R slammed into the sedan with the crunch of metal and plastic.

Light jerked forward and started to fall out. His large driver though managed to reach across the seat, get a hand around his arm, and pull him inside.

Elle swore and pulled back for another ram. The sedan was pinned between the Nissan and the station wagon. All three cars shook with the impact. The wagon's bumper hung lopsided for a second and then fell completely off. It was hard to tell but it looked like the wheel well was damaged too.

They were already past the plaza's entrance but West turned across the median and doubled back. The wagon's front and backend bounced going across and for a second Elle thought it might snap in two. Light's car followed him, not looking much better on the hump.

Knowing better than to chance it with her low ground clearance, Elle accelerated until she came to a break in the barrier and reached for the handbrake.

Claire gave a little yell as they whipped around and braced herself against the ceiling.

Not bothering to take her fingers from the paddle shifters on the wheel, Elle dropped the car in gear and raced back the way they had come. Downshifted and then swung into the abandoned parking lot.

Lightning greeted her.

It hit the car head on and for a moment all the dashboard lights flickered. Elle turned sharply to the side and out of the oncoming rush. The sedan passed dangerously close, near enough for Elle to see the freak behind the wheel.

The GT-R did not like that attack at all. Dashboard lights had come back but the displays weren't reading correctly.

"I don't think we can handle another like that."

"He's coming around," Claire said, looking in her side mirror.

"I see him." Elle shifted again and turned out of his line of fire. Blue white flashed behind them as a bolt went wide.

They shot across the empty parking spaces.

Far ahead she saw the station wagon circling the lot. West had the right idea now she just had to figure out how to buy him enough time to get Gretchen and Stephen into the air.

There were several small abandoned stores along the large one, maybe if he could get behind—

The blast caught her unaware and knocked her hard against the steering wheel. Glass shattered as the back window blew inward. Blue white light filled the car and Elle could hear the power crackling. Air burned going up her nose. She wasn't sure where the lightning hit on the car but they spun wildly before she could correct.

The engine made a sputtering sound but somehow remained going. They came to a rest with the passenger side against one of the concrete bases that once housed a lightpole.

Elle groaned.

"You okay?"

Of course Claire wasn't fazed. Elle shook her head to clear it and glanced out the windshield. "No."

The sedan had caught up with West just as he was attempting to slip between strips of stores. Light leaned all the way out his window, held in place by his driver's large hand, and let free two balls of lightning.

Knowing that was what had hit them, Elle watched as they slammed into the driver side of the wagon. For a second it was lost in the flash of discharge. Then the backend whipped around and they jumped the curb.

The front end all the way down the driver's door was a crumbled mess. Even if the electronics managed to survive that the front tire was goo on the rim. They bounced uncontrolled over the walk and slammed into the large storefront. Plywood covering where the automatic doors once stood gave way as the wagon hit and didn't slow. The station wagon disappeared into the dark store and Elle wondered if West even managed to live through that.

Light turned and began to pull up to the curb. They were just going to get out and finish them off without challenge.

Elle swallowed and reached for her seatbelt. The GT-R didn't have much life left but she was going to make what it had count. "Hang on."

They scraped across the concrete base when she began moving again. The car lumbered at first, not wanting to obey, but then began gaining speed.

Elle had no idea how fast they were actually going because the dashboard was stuck at zero but it was enough that the parking lot was passing in a blur.

She had just enough time to yank the gun from her belt and shove it at Claire. "Inside get to Gretchen," she said. "I'll take Light."

They hit the back of the back of the sedan and both cars crumpled together. The force was enough to send the sedan clear over the curb and into the gaping hole left by the wagon. Elle following right behind, her foot never leaving the gas.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

The airbag had exploded in her face. Elle didn't remember that happening so that meant she must have blacked out for a second. At least she hoped it was for a second.

Sitting back with a groan, she coughed and did a quick check of limbs. Nothing seemed broken, just sore as hell. The car was dark and a quick check of her mirror showed the bashed in store entrance at least a hundred feet back.

The wagon's back end was parallel to their hood and beyond that she could see the outline of Light's sedan. All three cars had spun in different directions after coming together.

Beside her Claire had blood on the side of her face but the wound that had caused it was already closing. She didn't seem any worse for the wear.

"You good?"

Claire nodded and reached for the gun that had fallen to the floor. "Yeah, I'm fine. You?"

"I'll let you know in an hour or so." She jerked her head toward the station wagon. "Get them out of here. I'll create a diversion."

"Maybe Light didn't survive."

"Since when are we that lucky?" Elle leaned on her door and forced it open. Glass rattled in the doorframe.

Her legs were wobbly but nothing was broken. Elle stumbled forward and aimed for the sedan.

The back was a ruined mess but the rest of the car had survived intact. And both doors stood open.

Elle cursed and dropped low. Keeping the rear fender to her back, she scanned the store. Empty racks were thrown about haphazardly and boxes and crates were stacked, but there wasn't a lot of cover. Overhead were boarded up windows, empty light fixtures, and several catwalks crossing between them.

Hoping one of them hadn't gone up to the catwalk to work as a spotter, Elle stood and sent two quick bursts off into the darkness.

A second later lightning answered her. It missed but not by much. She could hear the air sizzle as it passed her cheek.

Elle took off running and fired back in the general direction. She drew him purposely deeper into the store and away from Gretchen.

...

...

Claire stayed low and out of sight behind the car until she was sure the flashes of power were moving away from the station wagon. Then made a dash for the rear passenger side. Peering inside she saw Stephen and Gretchen struggling out of her seatbelt beside him.

Claire tapped on the glass and then held up a finger signaling for quiet. "Are you hurt?" she mouthed.

Gretchen shook her head and then pointed to West.

The front end of the wagon from fender all the way to the driver side door was twisted and blackened. Jagged metal jutted up where the lightning had hit and peeled back the body down to the frame. Everything smelled hot and of burning oil and fluids.

She switched the gun to her other hand and reached in past broken window glass. West was slumped over but his pulse was strong.

Claire sighed as she thought. So much for flying out of here. She couldn't carry him so she'd have to get Gretchen and Stephen out and then come back for him.

She stepped back and started to walk around to Stephen's side. The wagon was too damaged to even try forcing the doors on this side. The layout of the plaza swirled in her head. She needed a place to stash—

Salt was suddenly there in front of her. Reacting without thought, Claire brought the butt of the gun up and around planning to slam it into his head. The grip tumbled from her fingers though before she could get it halfway to him. She watched in stupid amazement as her entire hand shriveled and turned to dust.

Salt shoved her away and she stumbled backward until her legs gave way and she collapsed to the ground. The gun slid to a stop against the GT-R. She hit the ground awkwardly on her left shoulder and heard bones break. Clawing forward, she tried to reach Elle's gun. Skin and bone dissolved around her into powder and she couldn't gain much ground.

Inside she felt her ability fighting against Salt's. It rushed through every cell, regenerating, unable to get ahead. Claire could feel herself losing the fight.

Several feet away, Salt began moving toward her. "We considered offering you a place," he said. "The four of us. But it seemed your true power was only notoriety. Little did we know at the time.

"You should be dead, Claire Bennet. Why are you still able to struggle?"

She tried to answer, to tell him one of Elle's more colorful expletives inside another expletive, but there was no moisture left in her throat and she only managed a croak past cracked lips. The gun was frustratingly out of reach.

Salt seemed indifferent to her trying to claw at the weapon. "I would love to know the extent of your healing power, but I must kill you. You have sided against your own kind in this war. The church is mother and it will rebirth this planet as something better with or without you."

A grunt sound emerged from Claire's throat as she struggled just to stay awake. Every time she blinked, she felt the lids drag against dry eyes.

"_Stop_." The words seemed to come from every direction at once and made the air curl with wrongness.

...

...

"Come out and be judged by God's divine grace," Light said, arcs of power punctuating his words. "You and I are one of the same. Test yourself against me and see if you are worthy of God's forgiveness."

Elle stayed low behind several shelves and tried to peer between a set. She could see Light, his profile anyway, but not Claire or the car. The cheerleader could handle herself, Elle knew, and tried to focus on one problem at a time.

Taking him on directly wasn't something she was looking forward too.

Her gaze swept over the ceiling and catwalks. Nothing that was useful to her up there. Next time she would have to crash into an Acme Anvil Warehouse.

Still using the shelf as cover, she hurried around into the best surprise flank position she could hope for. Now would be a good time for a big damn hero moment, Noah, she thought and waited a few seconds for the universe to think it over.

The universe apparently figured she could go screw herself.

"You know," she said stepping out into the open, "despite my name I've never been one for religion." Lightning, one continuous arc, jumped from her hand.

Light spun and dodged a direct hit but not fast enough to counter her attack. The blast caught him across his back and tossed him through the air.

Elle rushed forward and fired again, pumping enough power into the attack to fry him where he stood.

Light rolled on his hip, came up on one foot, and joined both hands in front of his chest with his palms out and wrists crossed.

The bolts hit his hands and he drove enough of the power to ground to prevent a killing blow.

Elle growled and ran for cover, shooting as she went.

Light fired low and past her, swinging around and coming to his full height.

The arc of power went wild and lashed across Elle's path, knocking over boxes and making wooden pallets explode. Elle half jumped and half fell to the side and shot blind.

Her attack missed and Light didn't slow. His blue eyes were crazed and the air crackled around him with a charge.

Oh, she thought ruefully, this is how it feels to be on this end of it.

Light flicked his wrist and sent a ball of lightning flying toward her.

Unable to get to cover in time, Elle raised her hand to block it the same way he had. Electricity was the same no matter what and just needed direction and a path of least resistance. The ball hit her hand and she was able to turn it away a hair second before it exploded with a blue white flash.

It felt like someone had shoved a hot fireplace poker through her hand and up her arm. The pain took root in her shoulder and made the entire limb feel like dead weight. She barely noticed the whips of pain that hit the back of her tingling hand from errant arcs.

That was a glancing blow. Jesus fucking Christ.

She scrambled backward, unable to get the damaged arm to respond properly, and tried to get enough of a purchase to stand.

Light walked forward like a smug bastard. She wanted to watch that grin of his burn away slowly and painfully. That prospect wasn't looking good though unless she thought of something fast.

Light fired once from his right hand and then from his left. Both went intentionally wide and caused her to flinch. "God has judged you unworthy," he said.

No surprise there, Elle thought.

She forced the numb arm to take weight and thrust her good arm out to fire a blast at him.

Light batted it away without slowing. "Do you not understand yet?" he asked. "I am beyond mortal feelings of pain and fatigue. I am God's holy weapon on Earth. You are nothing to me."

Bob Bishop's voice filled Elle's head. She remembered all the long painful sessions deep in the pit of the Company. He and Company scientists used to work her to exhaustion to learn how her ability worked and how to counter it. She learned too and had that knowledge on top of Company field training.

She doubted Light had had much in training. He was flash and power without grace. The Company proved time again that skill trumped raw power

The were only a few people left with more Company knowledge than her and the universe didn't see fit to send any of them for a heroic rescue.

She formulated a plan and planted her dull hand against the floor and raised her good hand. "Oh yeah? Why don't you show me what you got?"

Elle released her power in one long continuous stream. Light fired too and the two bolts met in the air.

The feedback shot through her body and felt like falling naked into a bin of syringes. Red hot syringes with barbs. She was ready for it though and didn't let up on feeding the lightning crackling from her fingers.

Illuminated by the flashing blue white discharge, she saw Light's cheek twitch when he tasted her ability and then smile. He increased his output and the feedback shot through her.

Elle closed her eyes and ignored the pain. She focused on his ability and tried to sort it from hers as they tangled together in arcing bolts.

Ever since she was little her power had felt like a living thing. It responded to her anger and grief. Her father's scientists had taught her how to cage it and channel it outward on command.

She assumed Light's power felt the same way for him.

And then she found it. The little tendril of him inside the rolling mess of power and electricity sparking around her. With the same will she used to command her own power she latched onto it.

Elle took a deep breath, filling her nose with ozone, and pulled his power into hers.

The feedback was beyond anything she'd ever felt before. Pain mixed with the sense of something alien filling her body. Shoving it down, Elle concentrated on her numb arm making contact with the ground and funneled that alien down and out her fingertips.

Then she pulled back her own ability.

The force of his blast hit her hand hard enough to knock her back but she kept sending it down and away.

She sensed then through their connected abilities that Light realized what she was doing. He tried to recall his power but her grip on it was too tight.

Not giving him time to recover, she pulled it all out of him. One long drain of power. It went through her like a ground wire and died in the earth.

Light began struggling against her control, doing anything to break her focus. Elle's willpower had training behind it though and she kept drawing more and more while he grew panicky and sloppy.

Between the two of them they could have kept the state of Texas in lights for a long while, but Elle intended to drain him dry like a hungry vampire. She opened her eyes and saw electricity arcing wildly, flashes of blue white light, and shocked fear in his eyes.

Keeping the circuit in place, Elle brought her knees around and rose to a crouch. Exhaling, she released his ability and before he could recover or move she fired one last blast that was all her.

Light was still off balance and he didn't have enough power left to throw up any sort of defense. It hit him square in the chest and tore through him like he was made of paper.

The store was quiet but the exertion left ringing in Elle's ears. She pushed shakily the rest of the way to her feet and walked to where Light's body had landed. Wary of a ruse or some sort of aftershock, she peered at him.

He was dead.

Covered in horrible burns it was the collapsed in chest that confirmed he didn't have any fight left in him.

"Merry Hanukkah, motherfucker." Elle breathed a sigh of relief then flexed and shook her hand to restore feeling. It was fine by her if she never had to do that again. "Thanks, daddy."

A new sound rang out and broke the silence of the store.

"Someone help me!"

Elle turned and started running. It was her girlfriend.

...

...

Gretchen threw her hip against the door, trying to get it open. The metal frame groaned in protest but didn't budge. Past the fractured windshield she saw Claire go down. Blue white light flashed from deeper in the store, but that wasn't the cause. Salt was here and he was going to kill everyone.

Desperate, she looked at Stephen. "Please," she said. "You have to help them."

He didn't have any reaction save to pulled at the peel wrapped around his crayon.

"Salt is going to kill her if you don't," Gretchen said. "I know you could do something if you tried. Please help them."

The small special turned to look at her.

She desperately searched for hope in his eyes. "Will you? Please?"

Stephen silently shook his head no.

Air left her lungs with a crushed huff. She stared at him slack jawed for a moment, unable to believe he was going to leave them to die that way.

"Fine," she said at last, pumping resolve through whatever connection the special had made to her. "Do whatever you were doing to me. Make me special so I can help them."

He tipped his head.

"Just do it! Juice me up—give me something that will help."

Stephen reached out and pressed one tiny finger to her forehead.

Pain exploded in her body. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. It felt like pins were sliding in underneath her skin, everywhere all at once. Worse was the twisting feeling in her chest, like a hand was wrenching her heart around. It was the sense that something was very, very wrong inside her body.

When Stephen took his hand away from her face, her eyes were clouded and milky white.

...

...

"_Stop_."

It was Gretchen's voice but held none of her normal inflection or personality.

The press of Salt's ability against her lessened considerably when his attention turned to Gretchen.

Claire tried to call him away from her, tried to reach the gun again, but enough of her body hadn't regenerated yet. Most of her limbs she saw with surprise existed solely as phantom feelings.

Salt considered Gretchen for a moment as she stood calmly ready to face him. "What are you?" he asked. "I sense no touch of God in you."

"Stop what you are doing to her."

"No. Another thing I shall never know about today." Salt raised his hand toward Gretchen and Claire felt a slight ripple in his power.

She flinched, expecting to see Gretchen vanish in a puff of dust.

Nothing happened.

Gretchen's arm came up and Salt jerked back as though punched. Her eyes were white with power.

Salt's influence over Claire disappeared completely as he struggled to overcome Gretchen.

Free of the destructive ability, Claire began to regenerate fully. She gritted what was left of her teeth and rode it out. Painfully slow her clothes began filling back out as skin and bone regrew.

Salt took half a step back, braced himself, and then brought his other hand up. His entire body shook with effort.

Gretchen shook too, but not as violently. Blood started running from her nose, dripping down her chin.

Skin still raw, Claire completed the journey to the gun and rolled onto her stomach, aiming for Salt.

His body began convulsing and he lifted several inches off the ground. Pulling his arms and legs inward, he began beating against his chest as though trying to expel something stuck there.

Claire didn't fire and lowered the gun when she realized what was happening to him.

Red tinged sweat broke out all over his body, soaking his clothes in seconds. His neck fell back and he opened his mouth to the sky, as though silently begging God to stop what was happening to him.

It came to a halt. Messily and wet.

Claire turned away and partially rolled to avoid splatter.

Salt's remains didn't go outward though; just fell straight down into a pile of saturated clothes, bones, and internal organs that were now outside the unbroken sheet of skin.

Claire climbed to her feet before the pool of bodily fluids could expand out to her. New joints popped as she moved. She slipped the gun into her waistband and approached Gretchen slowly. "Gretch? Can you hear me?"

If she did, she gave no sign of it. Blood was hemorrhaging faster out of her nose now and she was seizing.

"It's okay. He's gone. You can stop now. Stop, Gretchen."

Eyes, still clouded, looked at her for a moment before rolling back into her head and she collapsed.

Claire rushed forward and caught her in mid fall, lowering her to the ground she tried to break the spell. "Gretchen, talk to me. Snap out of it. He's dead."

There was no one left to answer her. In her arms, Gretchen jerked and bled but there was no recognition.

Claire looked over her shoulder, the light show from before had died and she hoped that meant Elle had won. "Help me!" she yelled. "Somebody help me!"

...

...

Elle skidded to a stop when she saw the sight of Gretchen on the ground with Claire cradling her. Her gaze flicked to the inside out pile of…of human steaming in the cold air across from them.

"She's bleeding bad," Claire said. "Salt's dead and I think she had an aneurysm."

"Jesus." Elle dropped down beside them and turned Gretchen's limp head to see white eyes. "What did she do?"

"I don't know. Salt was about to kill me and then she stopped him."

"She did that?!" Elle ran her good hand through her hair. "What about your blood? Can you heal her?"

Claire shrugged. "I can try but it could make it worse. I think it is Stephen's ability that is doing it."

Elle looked over at the station wagon. "Stay with her." She grabbed the gun from Claire's waist and stood.

"What are you going to do?"

"What I should have done when I first met the little fucker," Elle called over her shoulder. She thumbed the magazine release, popped the clip to check there was still bullets left, and then shoved it back in place. She chambered a round.

Stephen sat in the backseat, still buckled in, coloring in the same book they left behind in the park. Beside him was a full box of crayons. Elle only half registered that the coloring set had come from nowhere.

She opened the door and yanked his seatbelt free.

He didn't make a noise when she pulled him from the car and pushed him down.

"Stop whatever you are doing to her, for good, right now," she said. "Put her back the way she was and don't ever change her again."

Calm eyes blinked back at her.

"Elle, stop it!"

Elle raised the gun and put the barrel to his head. He might look like a kid but he was about as far from one as a person could get. Plus she'd killed kids before in her past life and had no problem doing so again in this one.

"I give it about equal odds that if I pull this trigger she goes back to normal anyway when your mojo unravels. But you'll still be dead. I'm up for a gamble, how about you?"

Stephen's gaze flicked over to Gretchen once and then returned to Elle.

"She stopped bleeding," Claire called out. "I think he stopped it."

Elle hesitated for a second, her finger on the trigger, and she wondered if the world would be a better place if she pulled it. Finally lowering the gun, she hit the safety and turned away.

She covered the distance between Stephen and Gretchen at a run. "Doe Eyes?" she asked, dropping beside her.

Gretchen was only half awake, muttering, but her eyes were back to normal. "Did I throw up?" she asked weakly. "I feel like I threw up."

"You can do that later," Elle said. "I might join you."

Claire looked up. "Elle, I hear sirens. Police are coming."

"Damn." Elle glanced over at the station wagon and then the GT-R. Neither seemed up for another high speed chase.

"West," Claire said. "He can get her out of here the fastest."

Deciding she really hated having him as a partner, Elle stood and ran back to the wagon. Stephen watched her go by, turning his head to follow her.

West was still in the driver's seat, slumped across the steering wheel. A dark bruise was forming on his temple from where it made contact.

"Hey." Elle shook him. "No time for beauty sleep. You have work to do."

He stirred.

"Yeah, come on. We need you to fly out of here."

West groaned and sat back. "Did we win?"

"Kinda sorta. We need you to get Gretchen out of here fast though."

"O…kay." He began climbing out the passenger side. The kid was moving slow but forward motion was a win in Elle's opinion.

"Stephen too," Claire said. "He can hang on to her."

Gretchen was on her feet now, still wobbly but present. She nodded her agreement.

"Where am I supposed to take them?" West stumbled and Elle caught his arm to keep him upright.

She turned and gestured toward one of the large, high faced windows. Ball lightning shot across the distance and shattered it outward. "Fly that way.

Now she could hear sirens. Not good.

Abandoning his coloring book again, Stephen walked up and took West's left side while Gretchen took the right. West boosted him up on his hip and put his arm around Gretchen's waist.

Elle nodded her thanks to him and then they were gone. Up and away through the door she'd made for them.

Claire sighed and looked around, as though seeing the destruction and carnage for the first time. "My God…"

Elle was already moving. "I've had enough God for today, Cheerleader. Go open the gas tank door on the wagon." She did the same on the GT-R and doubled checked inside for anything that could identify them.

"What are you going to do?"

Elle looked around and then gestured toward a metal stairway leading up to the catwalks. "Didn't your dad ever take you on evidence burying field trips as a kid?"

"Must have missed that." Claire followed her up to the next level.

From the vantage point they had a good view of both damaged cars and the bodies between them. She also had a good clear shot at both gas tanks.

The sirens were right outside now.

Elle licked her lips and glanced toward the broken window. She couldn't believe this was what she had to wait for.

She counted to ten. Nothing. Then to twenty. She was about to complain when West shot back through the window at high speed. He pivoted in mid-flight to keep from hitting the far wall and raced back toward them.

"Took you long enough," Elle said. "What did you stop for coffee or something?"

"Sorry." West hovered next to the catwalk. He extended both arms toward them.

Elle nodded at Claire and watched as the cheerleader put her foot on his as she stepped off. He caught her with one arm around her waist and she hugged his body for balance.

"Now you."

Elle hesitated. "Maybe you should take her and come back for me? I had a big dinner last night."

"No excuses," Claire said. "Come on. We're not splitting up."

Elle glanced down, which was a mistake, and forced one foot to go over the side. It made contact with his and she lunged the rest of the way. His arm came around her ribs and kept her from falling. Her fist balled in the neck of his shirt until her knuckles were white with strain.

The three of them bobbed in the air but didn't sink.

Elle gave an uncomfortable grimace. "That had better be a magic feather in your pocket, Dumbo."

"Are we ready?"

"Just about. Rotate me a little" Elle took careful aim behind West's back, did her best to still a shaking hand, and fired twice. "Go!"

Her static discharge hit both open gas tanks and the vapors ignited with a whoosh. Both cars exploded sending debris and fire across the floor.

They shot upward, gaining speed far too fast for Elle's taste and she buried her face in his shoulder to keep from seeing the ground race by so very far beneath them.

"I really hate flying."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

The property was neither Company nor Pinehearst owned. Micah assured them that it was completely off their books and buried so far in his own affairs that it was undetectable by the church or anyone else that might want to find Stephen.

Micah came out to oversee Stephen's hand off personally. He drove a proper and legally rented car so far out to the countryside Gretchen wasn't sure they were even still in Texas.

He said they were and seemed to know exactly where he was going though.

Gretchen looked over her shoulder at Stephen sitting on the backseat. For the entire trip she'd felt his gaze on the back of her head. It was creepy. She wondered why he had latched on to her when Salt and Light were coming for him.

It was impossible to know for sure—Stephen didn't seem willing to share his reasons—but she suspected it had more to do with people she knew and was connected to more than anything else.

She called and one of the Company's remaining agents, the spokesperson for specials everywhere, and the mastermind of the underground special railroad all came running to her aid.

It was flattering on one hand but she also felt more than a little used by the child that was really not a child.

"We're here," Micah said, one of the few things either of them had said the entire trip.

He pulled off the gravel road and started down a dirt driveway. They were beyond rural, Gretchen knew. Out here people left each other alone and few asked questions.

The land was wooded but not overgrown. At the end of a long winding driveway Gretchen saw a modest little white house with a screened in porch. Next to the house sat an old pickup truck and next to that a newer sedan.

Gretchen assumed the truck belonged to the homeowner. "Another one of yours?" she asked gesturing to the car.

Micah nodded. "Old friend," he said. "She's going to check in on Stephen from time to time. Not much in the way of computers or machines out here to do the job for me."

He parked next to the sedan and turned the engine off.

People were already coming out of the house, waving. Gretchen saw an older couple, in their sixties at least, and a dark haired woman with light olive skin. Micah smiled warmly when he saw her.

While he walked to them, Gretchen opened the back door and helped Stephen out. He took her hand and walked beside her to the house.

The old couple exchanged brief hugs with Micah—but didn't seem as familiar as the female agent.

"Gretchen, I'd like you to meet the Hendersons. Their grandson was an associate of mine when I was Rebel."

"When we were, you mean." The woman was British, Gretchen noticed with mild surprise.

"And this is Abigail," Micah said. "Abigail, Gretchen Berg. You two have a few friends in common."

"Nice to meet you." Gretchen shook hands with her left hand since Stephen was still holding her right. "Are you a friend of Claire's?"

"Not quite, love."

Gretchen frowned but Micah was already moving on and she didn't have time to question it further.

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet Stephen."

The Hendersons bent and welcomed him. Not showing the slightest bit of apprehension, Stephen let go of her hand and walked to them.

"I think you are going to be very happy here, Stephen," Mrs. Henderson said.

"Would you mind if I helped get him settled in?" Gretchen asked. "We've had kind of a connection these past few days."

"Not at all. Come inside."

Micah nodded to her and stayed outside with Abigail while she followed the others in.

The screened porch led directly into their kitchen. The house was small but uncluttered. A hutch in the kitchen and the dining room table both looked expertly made from the same kind of trees around the house.

"Would you like something to drink, Gretchen? We have sweet tea."

"I'm good, thank you."

Mrs. Henderson led Stephen down a hallway. "Are you an agent of Micah's too?"

"Me? No, not exactly." Gretchen smiled. "You could say I married into the family."

"That's nice," Mr. Henderson said. "Micah tried to help our grandson back during that Building 26 mess. Our children passed long ago and he was all we had left. We're grateful for all Micah has done for us over the years."

The room at the end of the hall was ready for a small child. Transformer posters hung on the walls, games were stacked in the corner, and a Lego castle sat in a state of half construction.

"We left his room the same as it was when they took him away," Mrs. Henderson said. "It's nice that another boy will be able to use it."

Stephen pulled away and walked to the castle. He began turning spare Legos over in his hands, contemplating them.

"So you don't mind what he can do?" Gretchen asked.

"No. The way we see it, nons have done a fair job in the violence and destruction department long before specials came along. All people can be dangerous if they don't have the right kind around them. And even if someone has done bad things…well, that doesn't mean you can't love the bad right out of them if they just give you a chance."

Gretchen stood with them for a moment, watching as he settled in. Stephen didn't have much baggage—just what was in the go bag from his last safe house—but she didn't think that would be a problem for him.

He seemed oblivious to her, to the three of them, but when Gretchen turned to leave he stood up and waved good-bye.

Gretchen returned the wave. She noticed then that the ceiling had changed since she entered the room. It was now blue like the sky and had big fake looking clouds painted on it. She smiled.

Later she and Micah excused themselves from the Hendersons. She still hadn't gotten much information out of Abigail other than she had once worked with Micah and the rebellion. And her father had once helped Elle.

"You are welcome to stay the night, Micah," Mr. Henderson said. "Your friend too."

"Thank you, but I have to get home for Christmas with Molly. And I promised I would have Gretchen back before sundown." He nodded toward Abigail. "If you need anything, just contact me."

"We will. And thank you."

Abigail gave a short wave and remained silent. Gretchen suspected she was going to stay for a while to make sure Stephen didn't cause them trouble and that he was safe.

Micah backed the car up the driveway and out onto the gravel street. They started the long trip back to civilization. Silence again filled the car.

Gretchen looked up at the sky, wondering if West was up there keeping an eye out for tails. Both in the air and on the road. She wondered exactly when she crossed the line to thinking of things like that.

"How are you feeling?" Micah asked. "Better I hope."

Gretchen glanced over and nodded. "Yeah. I'm myself again. I haven't had that wiggy feeling since Salt died."

Micah made a noncommittal noise. "Would you like to talk about that? What happened with him, I mean?"

"I probably should," she said. "I probably will. But not right now."

"That's cool. My phone is always on if you ever want to talk. I hope you know that."

Gretchen thought for a moment. "Can I ask you something? Just between us?"

"Of course."

"How come you've never given me the recruitment speech? About joining your movement."

Micah shrugged. "There's nothing to join." He smiled. "But would you like the speech?"

"No. I always figured it was because I wasn't a special or a former agent like Mr. Bennet. But you use nons too, like that couple back there."

He didn't seem to like that phrasing but didn't correct her.

The gravel road met up with pavement and they started traveling at highway speed again.

"Can I ask you something? Just between us?"

Gretchen nodded.

"Do you miss it? Thinking you were like us. The power."

"The power kind of sucked," she said. "But the other part…I don't know. Some times it seems like Elle and Claire have this whole other thing that only they understand. I try and they don't know they're doing anything to exclude me, but…"

"You're different than they are," he finished.

"Yeah."

For a long while they listened to the hum of the road passing underneath the tires. Finally Micah said, "Would you ever be willing to do a job for me?"

"What sort of job?"

He shrugged again. "I don't know. Just talk to people."

Gretchen looked at him, unsure if he was being serious or not. "Would this also be between us or could I tell the others? Because we don't keep secrets like that."

"I would rather you keep it to yourself at first," he said. "But it isn't a requirement. You can tell them if you want."

Gretchen thought about that. "Okay," she said. "As long as it isn't dangerous."

"Not dangerous at all." Micah gave her a reassuring smile before adding, "Tell me how much you know about Elle's mother..."

...

...

"I don't like being played," Elle said as she and Claire walked back to the hotel. "And that is exactly what this whole shitstorm was. That kid played us from the get go."

"We don't know that." Claire's breath clouded in front of her mouth. It was late afternoon and the night was shaping up to be a cold one.

Elle shook her head. "He got himself off the church's radar and deeper into hiding while also arranging for us to kill the people after him. Hell, probably two of the few people in the entire world that even knew he existed.

"And he saw nothing wrong with using Gretchen to do it."

"She asked for that," Claire said. "In the end."

"In the end, yeah, but not the beginning. Those nightmares back in Virginia? Him setting up the game board."  
"Maybe." Claire didn't sound sure. "Either way we're done with him."  
"Yeah," Elle agreed. "And if I never see him again I'll be one happy special."

They rounded the corner past the waving cowboy, during the daylight he seemed oddly enough even more welcoming. And stopped when they saw Martin waiting in the parking lot. He sat on the ground next to his bike; catching sight of them he stood and smiled.

"Well, this should be good."

"Hey, guys," he said when the walked up. "I wasn't sure which room was yours so I figured I would just wait." He looked a little banged up from the night before but otherwise fine. Elle thought some of his beard had been burned off but really she couldn't tell patchy from extra patchy.

Claire greeted him with a hug. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. What about you? Big sis?"

"She's fine," Elle said. "Not back yet though. She wanted to see Stephen off."

Martin nodded and then hesitated, trying to voice a delicate question. "Is she…?"

"Special?" Claire shook her head. "She's back to normal."

He visibly relaxed with relief. "Thank goodness…Oh! Not that there is anything wrong with that. I mean, I'd love her no matter how she was. Just like I care about you guys."

Elle waved him down. "Settle, John-boy. It's fine; we know what you meant. We're happy she's normal too.

"How did you know where we were, by the way?"

"Some girl named Molly called the house. Said she was a friend and called it a Christmas gift."

"Bless her heart."

Claire smiled at Elle's tone. "So her parents…?"

"Didn't take the call," Martin said. "It was for me only." He shifted from one foot to the other. "They didn't tell the cops about you or anything. Just said it was a break in. They're not bad people…just trying to catch up with the times."

"Yeah, well, we'll check in with them another time. Deep in the future."

"Elle."

Martin shook his head. "No, I think that's fair. I'll keep working on them. Who knows, maybe I can get mom and dad to start a chapter of my support group right here?" He looked around the parking lot. "Man, this place brings back memories. I used to come here in high school."

"Really? With people or just by yourself? Because I find the first much harder to believe than the second." Elle softened her expression to let him know she was just playing.

"Would you like to come up?" Claire asked. "We were going to order Chinese food and wait for Gretchen."

He nodded. "I'd like that, yeah."

Claire led the way to the room with Martin trailing behind while Elle brought up the rear. Out of habit she turned and scanned the parking lot for threats. Tomorrow there would probably be more people from the church or some sort of new problem to face. For now though it was a peaceful holiday night with her new family.

Not a bad Hanukkah at all, she thought.

**End**


End file.
